Beyond Condemnation
by writerspassion18
Summary: For sixteen years Hermione's lived in bliss, but her past isn't quite finished with her yet. Or with her husband for that matter... *Sequel to Condemned with Reason, Part Three of the Condemned Series: A Dramione Trilogy*
1. Christopher Reid

"Where's Cat and Xavier?"

"I sent them with my parents. They've been around enough of this as it is."

Hermione shook under the feel of Harry's hand on her shoulder. It felt like he wasn't touching her at all; almost like she really wasn't there or was simply incapable of comprehending touch. She had long ago forgotten that Ron had been holding her hand. The warmth of it had melted away into nothing so that only an empty feeling was left in her palm. In thinking of all this Hermione deemed herself there and nowhere and feared that she would stay that way for the rest of her life.

"We should get back to the house, 'Mione." Ron said quietly. He slipped in a joke about having a bunch of freeloaders in your house when you're not there wasn't a good thing. He wanted to get a laugh out of her, a chuckle, or even a grim smile.

Hermione did none of those but just nodded. She, Harry, and Ron gave one last look at the tombstone that they were standing in front of before disapparating. It was an expensive white marble with newly engraved words that were done to perfection. Hermione read them to herself a final time, as though doing so would mean waking from this terrible dream.

"Here lies Christopher Reid. Beloved husband and father,"

The apparation gave Hermione some bit of strength, but barely enough to keep away the feeling of numbness. There were tons of people at the house having small conversations of their own and eating the food made by the house elves that the funeral home had loaned her. Once the guests realized that Hermione had finally arrived, most of the small talk died down. Their focus had now turned to her and she really wished that it hadn't. Special attention wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want to hear how sorry someone was for her loss. She didn't want to be asked how Catalina and Xavier, her children, were dealing with things because they were " _So close_ to their father. It must be _torturous_ for them."

It was all too much and Harry and Ron understood. They were Hermione's brick walls and blocked people's paths to her. With them by her side she made it upstairs and to her bedroom without much of a fight.

"We'll be right outside the door if you need us."

"Thanks," Hermione said, opened the door and slipped herself inside. She closed and leaned against the door and took a deep breath. This was the first time she had been in the house, let alone her and Chris' bedroom, in two weeks. When she had found out that Chris was dead she had dropped to the floor in disbelief and cried her eyes out. What made it worse was that at that moment her parents had just pulled up into the driveway and were dropping Catalina and Xavier off after spending the weekend with them. To think that they had to see their mother like that?

Hermione shivered as she remembered that moment. She had tried so hard to stop her tears and to calmly tell her children what had happened to their father, but it was…difficult. Without even being asked Hermione's father sent owls to Harry and Ron while her mother ushered the children into an adjacent room and ordered them to stay there while she attended to Hermione.

It was an awful day, truly. Harry and Ron tried consoling her the moment they arrived, and their last act of goodness was to help her and the children pack away some things in order to stay at Ron's place. Tomorrow she'd be moving back, and she had no idea how she'd handle it. Just standing in the bedroom now, the bed neatly made, and the expectation of Chris coming out of the bathroom and gargling was bringing tears to Hermione's eyes.

Sighing, she pushed herself off the door and walked further into the room. She headed straight to the window from which she could see the car parked in the driveway. It made her laugh really. She remembered the exact conversation she and Chris had about getting the car in the first place.

" _What's the point? For Merlin's sake, we can apparate, Floo, or fly to wherever we need to go. It's unnecessary."_

" _It's_ _ **practical**_ _. We live in a muggle neighborhood-"_

" _Four of the neighbors are wizards-"_

" _And they have cars too." Hermione smiled. "And if that's not a good enough reason for you, Cat's six and Xavier is only a year old. I highly doubt it's advisable to apparate, Floo, and definitely not_ _ **fly**_ _with children so young."_

 _Chris sucked his teeth. He took a deep breath, stared at his wife and began to smile and laugh. "Can't believe you're trying to bribe me into getting a car by using the children."_

 _Hermione laughed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder as she felt his arms glide their way around her. "Did it work at least?"_

" _Yes it did… How much do these things cost anyway?"_

"… _Uh…not much, I swear."_

Hermione found herself to be smiling. Chris nearly went on another tirade when they had actually gone car shopping and saw how much one would cost. But luckily Hermione had Xavier in her arms and looking at that cute little face reminded Chris why he was car shopping in the first place.

"You'd do anything for them." Hermione said in the air. "You'd do anything for me."

Sighing, Hermione placed a hand on the window, and as she did so she immediately drew it back and turned around. The room was empty save herself, but she couldn't help but think that she had felt a hand brush across her cheek.

She left the bedroom after that, preferring not to have any more memories of Chris. Not until she was able to do so without crying, that is.

* * *

By the time everyone had gone home the sun had already set. It had been a few hours after that and Hermione was waving to Harry and Ron who were leaving via Floo. Once they were gone, she fled the house as well with her car keys jingling in her hand.

Her parents didn't live too far from her, just two towns over –a twenty-five minute ride with traffic, twenty minutes without, and fifteen today, because Hermione was purposefully driving over the speed limit. It probably wasn't a wise choice, but as she pulled into her parents' driveway Hermione let out a sigh of relief and happiness that her one-time reckless driving hadn't gotten her into an accident.

Before she managed to make it to the front door it opened, revealing Hermione's mother wearing a sympathetic smile. "Couldn't get the people out of your house fast enough, hmm?"

Hermione smiled and chuckled as she hugged her mother and went inside. "Harry and Ron were the only ones who were hard to get rid of. But of course you know they're the only freeloaders I'll allow."

Mrs. Granger nodded knowingly and led the way into the kitchen where, anticipating her daughter's arrival, she had already made cups of tea.

"How are the kids?"

"Your father just sent Xavier to bed."

"And Cat?"

Mrs. Granger frowned a bit. "She sent herself to bed about an hour ago."

Hermione sipped her tea. She would check on Catalina soon. Knowing her, she had said that she was going to bed, but instead had been and was still staring up at the ceiling and thinking, crying as well.

"How are you doing, Hermione?" Mrs. Granger asked softly. "How are you holding up?"

"…I'm surviving." Hermione shrugged and crossed her arms. "You know, it didn't seem so real to me until today. It wasn't like I didn't believe Chris was dead or anything like that, but today it just…the funeral made it real. It made it final."

"…I wish I could say that you'll get through this, but the truth is, is that you don't. You learn to live with it instead."

Hermione silently agreed. If there was one thing she was good at doing, it was learning. She supposed she would have to look at this as something else she would have to teach herself to do.

Later on that night Hermione checked on the children. Xavier was fast asleep which didn't surprise her. Sleep could come to him during an earthquake, hurricane, and tornado, all occurring at the same time. It was quite the blessing, especially when he was a baby. She smiled to herself at that and then moved on to checking on Catalina.

Like she guessed, Catalina wasn't asleep. She was cuddled up underneath two blankets despite the summer heat and staring out at nothing in particular. She scooted over in bed when she saw her mother at the door and Hermione took the invitation to lie next to her.

"Death sucks no matter how old you get." Catalina said, and Hermione nodded. Her daughter went on to ask her mother to do something before they went to bed, and Hermione took a deep contented breath as she gave in to the request.

Catalina, though sixteen, asked in a very childlike voice for Hermione to tell her about her father from beginning to end. So Hermione did what she asked, but not without guilt. Not all of what she told her was a lie, but just the beginnings of it. She couldn't very well say that she and Chris met in St. Mungo's only hours after Catalina was born. She thought Chris was her father for Merlin's sake!

But he was just as well. Chris was sweet and kind and he and Hermione married quickly. They dated for three months before moving in together, and seven months after that Chris proposed. Hermione said yes of course and though she didn't dare show it, her readiness to be with him frightened her. He reminded her so much of Draco that it was nerve-wracking. Everything he said and everything he did screamed Draco's name. It grew so much that Hermione was sure that it was really him, using an alias. But she dismissed that theory entirely with the letters she received.

Draco wrote her vague letters to let her know that he was alright. They came once a month for six months after Catalina was born until he couldn't write her anymore due to the risk of exposure. Though it hurt, Hermione had understood. They knew what would be left of the relationship they had once the Samuel Delaney alias fell through. And at each time Draco wrote her, Hermione wanted to tell him that he had a daughter, but she held back her hand from doing so. She knew what he'd want to do if he knew. He'd want to come out of hiding to be with Catalina, and though this was what Hermione wanted more than anything, she couldn't allow it. There were few things she could think of that was worse than not having Draco: Catalina having her father around only to have him taken away.

She had Chris though. They both did. He molded himself into their lives perfectly and not once did he ever feel out of place. He had been a wonderful father right at the start, which was another reason why Hermione had fell in love with him so fast.

Either way, Chris loved them and he was loved by others. There was no other way to describe it, and Hermione went to bed that night feeling lighthearted and very reminiscent.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Apologies for the wait! I wanted to make sure this was far enough along if not all the way finished before posting. And what a first chapter I must say! You all must hate me. It's alright if you do, because I really do hate myself haha. We're on a long-winded adventure with this one, full of twists and turns. So I hope that you like this final installment!

-WP :)


	2. Invisible

Hermione was thankful for many things. She was thankful for her children, her parents, and her friends. She was thankful that the Ministry was so good to her during her "time of bereavement" to let her have the whole summer to herself in order to morn her loss. She was even thankful that Chris died during the summer. It was a bright season with people wearing huge smiles and colorful clothing. It cheered her and the kids up rather well, as well as Xavier's Hogwarts letter that came near the end of July.

"Ten galleons you get into Gryffindor." Catalina told her brother brightly. "You and I fight all the time, so why shouldn't we be in rival houses?"

"I'll take any house other than _Slytherin_." Xavier made a gag face and Catalina made one back as she reached over the kitchen counter to see what books she'd be needing for her sixth year.

Hermione smiled. Harry and Ron had discussed way back when the possibility of Catalina ending up in Slytherin with who her father was. "Why break the trend now?" Ron had joked. It wasn't supposed to be this way, but sometimes it really felt like House sorting was genetic.

Either way, Hermione felt that her daughter was right. Catalina was like Draco in many ways, and Xavier had taken after his dear ole mum. Two feuding siblings in two feuding Houses. It seemed fitting.

"Hey, where are you people?!"

"Kitchen..!" Hermione called. "Get your school lists." She added to Catalina and Xavier as Harry and his kids, James and Albus, came into the kitchen.

"Mum, why aren't you coming along with us to get our books?" Xavier asked, and Hermione smiled fondly at him as she acknowledged greetings from James and Albus.

"I'd love to go, but I…" Hermione made brief eye-contact with Harry and then turned to her son. "I have to take care of something here at home."

"Don't worry mum, I'll make sure our little man here doesn't buy a toad." Catalina smiled and ushered her brother out of the room while talking to James about his second-year courses and what to expect out of them.

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Harry asked once the kids were out of earshot. Hermione nodded and crossed her arms.

"I'll go mad if I don't. With the kids here I'm distracted, and besides it could be either one of them that's doing it. At least this way I can be sure. I'll know that I'm not losing my mind."

Harry nodded. "Okay… I'll keep them out for as long as possible."

"Thank you. Oh, and Cat will try to keep Xavier from bringing home a toad. Can you make sure that he doesn't bring home an owl either?"

Harry laughed. "No promises."

Hermione laughed along with him and watched as he left with the children. Once he was gone, she dashed upstairs, went into the study and pulled out a small notebook that she had begun writing in the month before. She glanced at a few pages and settled on one of them. It was about ten-thirty in the morning at the moment, and she had purposefully not made her bed when she woke up two and a half hours beforehand. Periodically she had checked it to make sure that the bed was the same. And just to be sure, she had tied little bells to the edges of the comforter so that she could hear it in case it moved.

As Hermione closed the door to the study she heard it. Her heart quickened as she made her way down the hall to her bedroom and there it was. Her bed was neatly made though she hadn't laid a finger or wand to it. And it was like this every morning.

Every morning her bed was made no later than eleven.

Hermione bit her lip and stared at the room. There was no one there. There was no one in the house at all. She checked the notebook again and read the next line under _Bed made_. She walked into her private bathroom and took a deep breath as she took in the nature of the sink.

It was clean.

That morning she had made a mess of it. Toothpaste remnants from her brushing and squeezing too much out of the tube had been all over it –on the inside of the sink and on the ridges. Now it was void of it all and she hadn't touched it.

Hermione checked the shower: clean. She went down to the living room and sat there with the notebook open in her lap and with extreme paranoia kept looking at the clock. At the right moment she went to the kitchen, standing outside of the swinging door, nervous to push it open. With reluctance she did so and found that a kettle had been placed on the stove –a gentle flame flickering underneath it.

She sighed and went back out to the living room, pacing in front of her coffee table while keeping in mind the time. Some minutes later she barged into the kitchen and found that a cup of tea had been made and was neatly sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting to be drunk.

Hermione sat down at the counter and took the cup of tea in her hands. It warmed her palms and soon after her throat and stomach as she drank it. Everyone knew that she drank tea around two-thirty in the afternoon daily, but only one person made it for her and could do it exactly the way she liked: Chris.

"Stop it." Hermione scolded herself. She realized that her hands were shaking as she brought the cup to her lips and there was no reason to be. She went to a school where there were ghosts roaming around day in and day out. Why should this bother her?

"Because this is a personal haunting." She answered herself, finished her tea, and rubbed her shoulders. She sat at her kitchen counter wondering and thinking. It started last month, about three weeks after the funeral. Her bed was constantly being made. Little things around the house that needed cleaning would simply do so itself and other things of the like. Hermione had found it odd, but not so much. Catalina or Xavier could've been doing it without her seeing them. That surely explained the things that were going on during the day, but at night? Who was doing it while her children were asleep?

Hermione started keeping a notebook then, recording the things that happened and at what time. She did so for a month and today was the day to test them out. Naturally she had told Harry and Ron that she thought Chris was still there, and naturally they thought she was mad.

"They still think so." Hermione chuckled, but Harry took her kids to get their school supplies anyway so she could figure things out. Now that she had, she wasn't sure if she was comfortable with it or not.

* * *

Catalina and Xavier had taken up spending the weekends with Hermione's parents. And while they were gone Hermione hardly wanted to spend it alone, so she alternately spent her weekends with Harry and Ginny or Ron and Isabel. She felt horrible for doing so though, like she was intruding, but all four of them waved off her guilt and insisted that she was welcome.

This weekend she was spending it with Ron, who more than anyone looked forward to Hermione's company. Isabel was a travelling journalist, and so her weekends were mostly spent tracking down the politicians, the actors, the soon-to-be Azkaban prisoners and the Aurors who arrested them. Ron's only companion then was his son, Micah, who was spending his time at the Burrow this weekend.

"Is he looking forward to going to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked with a frown as Ron's Knight demolished hers. Wizard Chess had never been a strength of hers.

Ron grinned and cleared away the rubble. "He begged me not to make him go the other day. He's terrified of being alone. But I reminded him that Xavier's going too, so that helped a bit."

"Hopefully they'll be in the same House. That'll help things even more."

"Definitely. Kind of not looking forward to Isabel filling my ears with all her worries about Micah not making friends, though. Hey, how's Xavier doing with Remy?"

Hermione looked up at Ron and rolled her eyes. He was smiling and had a taunt in his voice. Earlier that week Catalina had made sure Xavier didn't buy a toad. Harry had made sure he hadn't bought an owl. And yet neither of them had stopped him from buying a rat, which he named Remy, and took out of his cage so that he could run around his room daily.

"He never lets him out of his sight while I, on the other hand, check him every night to make sure that he doesn't turn into another Peter Pettigrew."

Ron laughed at that all the while winning the chess game. Hermione lost graciously and got up to place their empty teacups in the kitchen sink. When she got there she stopped in the doorway suddenly and turned to look back at Ron with a pale face.

"Ron, did you-?"

"Yes," He answered. Ron was resetting the board game as he addressed her and looked up at her softly. "I washed the dishes while I was making the tea. And before this gets you too, I'm the one who placed the box of tissues on the dresser in your bedroom."

Hermione sighed. She continued into the kitchen and soon Ron followed her. "I'm sorry, Ron. It's just that, you know, spirits aren't just attached to places. They can leave if they're attached to the person too."

Ron nodded and stared at her back as she washed and dried the teacups. "Do you really think Chris is haunting you, Hermione?"

"Who else could it be? There's no else who died recently who had an impact on my life."

"No one except Ian."

Hermione snorted in order to contain her laughter. Yes, Ian Chase Whistt was dead. He had died a week or so before Chris from a heart attack of all things. Of all the ways for him to go, she hadn't pictured that scenario. She had secretly hoped that he would be turned into a vegetable after being given the Dementor's Kiss, but he'd never gotten it and now he was gone. Happily, Ian's death had served as Hermione's early birthday present.

"Yes, well, if it's Ian I'm rather surprised he's not doing things to hurt me instead of household chores."

Ron shrugged and led the way back to the chairs they were sitting on and the second chess game that was waiting to be played. Hermione allowed Ron to make the first move and could already see a mountain of problems that would arise from it.

"Should I be worried?" Hermione asked as she moved a pawn. "That Chris is still here, I mean."

"Not necessarily. Maybe he just wants to look after you." Ron gave her a comforting smile. "He loved you more than anyone could love someone else. I'm pretty sure it's not an easy feeling to get rid of, even after death."

"I want to talk to him." Hermione said suddenly. "I _need_ to talk to him."

"How will you? Chris isn't like the ghosts at Hogwarts."

"I know, which means I'm going to have to do something I _really_ hate. And you're coming with me."

* * *

Even before her third year at Hogwarts, Hermione thought divination was such a soft subject and an unnecessary discipline. Seeing into the future. Determining one's fate. Those were things that weren't defined. They constantly changed. How could they be trusted? But here she was, walking with Ron by her side to a local Seer at the south end of Diagon Alley.

Her hand shook all the way there and Ron held it to give her some comfort although it wasn't helping much. As they got to _Madame Giana's_ and pushed the door open, Madame Giana herself was setting up two chairs on opposite ends of a small round table.

"Ah, you're right on time. Please, sit."

Hermione stole a glance at Ron who was returning her one. She edged towards the table and placed a tentative hand on the back of one of the chairs. "For someone who knew I was coming, there should be three chairs set here, not two."

Madame Giana gave Hermione a hard look. She huffed and sat herself down, neatly placing her cupped hands on the table. "Pessimism won't work well in here, Ms. Reid. Spirits only come into _open_ environments. They like to feel welcomed. And not to be in the presence of many," She added to Ron who cocked a brow. "I would've owled you to let Ms. Reid come here alone, Mr. Weasley, but that would've only made you want to come even more."

Ron sucked his teeth, both out of amazement and out of lack for something to say. Hermione was staring between the two rather at a loss of words as well.

"I'll wait outside then…" Ron said quietly, and Hermione nodded as she sat down and he left. Once he was gone, Madame Giana had taken the liberty to darken her shoppe as well as pull down the blinds at the windows so no light could get in.

"To be perfectly honest, I find this rather amusing." Madame Giana chuckled. Hermione stared at her oddly.

"Find what amusing exactly?"

"You, being here. Someone like you asking for my help when you think what I do is absolutely pointless."

"Desperate times come for desperate measures." Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, I know who's haunting me."

Madame Giana let a smirk fall onto her lips. "Do you?"

"Yes. There's only one person who could be haunting me and all I want is to talk to him. So, if you don't mind, can we please cut out the small talk and get on with this?"

"As you wish… Your hands, please?"

Hermione looked down at the table at Madame Giana's hands which were laying palms up. She took a deep breath and placed her hands in hers which were then clasped tight. "Close your eyes."

Hermione did so and immediately began to feel cold. The only part of her that wasn't were her hands which were not only clasped in Madame Giana's, but were also being squeezed.

"There's a man who died recently." Madame Giana said softly. "He died suddenly and he loved you and your children very much."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, yes he did. Please, why is he still here?"

"He has unfinished business, but I can't tell you what it is. He won't speak to me or through me."

"But why..?" Hermione frowned as tears threatened to fall. She had gone against all of her principles and come this way to a _Seer_ of all people, and Chris wouldn't speak to her? "Madame Giana, you have to persuade him. You have make Chris say something to me."

Madame Giana immediately snapped her eyes open. "Chris?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Chris. Christopher Reid. That's who died recently; he was my husband."

"No," Madame Giana shook her head. The room began to warm up again and the Seer released Hermione's hands. "Christopher Reid isn't the man who's haunting you. Ms. Reid….Draco Malfoy is."

* * *

Hermione walked out of Madame Giana's shoppe in shock at many things. The moment Ron saw her face he automatically knew something was wrong, but when she had actually told him, he said nothing but immediately left with her to go home.

Sitting in armchairs facing opposite each other, they sat in silence. Hermione was staring blankly ahead while Ron was staring at her. It was a full fifteen minutes before either of them spoke a word, and it was Hermione who had produced the first bit of conversation.

"I don't know what to think, Ron. I mean, although it freaked me out a bit, I had liked the idea of Chris still being here. It was like he loved me too much to leave. But so the Seer said, it's not him. So I suppose I should happy that he's at rest, but Draco…"

"It must be difficult. To find out that he's dead I mean…" Ron frowned. Hermione followed suit and held back all but two tears.

"It's horrible. I loved Chris, you know that. And I was devastated to know that he was gone. I still am. But to know that Draco's gone too..? Catalina's had both of her fathers taken away from her and she doesn't even know about one of them."

Hermione had broken down fully by now and Ron had moved from his seat to pull her into a hug. The left side of his shirt had been nearly soaked through by the time Ron had gathered his words, and even then he wished that he wasn't going to say them.

"Hermione…please don't tell me that you haven't at the very least… _thought_ about it."

Hermione looked up from Ron's shoulder in confusion. "Thought about what?"

"You know. You just don't want to say it."

"…I don't want to say it because it's not possible." Hermione immediately stood and began pacing. "He wrote me letters for six months telling me that he was safe, how he wished he could've stayed and-"

"Malfoy's smart. He has to be in order to evade the Ministry with those two aliases of his. Three, if you include this one."

Hermione shook her head. "He would've told me. After all this time why _wouldn't_ he tell me? Sixteen years I've been with him –fifteen of them married. Draco couldn't and _wouldn't_ have let me feel guilty all these years."

"Guilty?" Ron asked curiously. Hermione nodded and sat back down.

"Yes, guilty. I loved Chris not only because of who he was as person, but also because who he was as a person was like Draco. And I felt guilty every day because that's who I felt that I loved instead. Draco wouldn't let me feel that way."

"Not unless he had to."

"There's no excuse to torture me so."

"Only if the torturing without him was better than the torture with him."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Can you say denial? Draco did cover his tracks pretty well though, and Hermione simply just doesn't want to believe it. But, back to the lovely fact that Ian is dead. Oh happy day :D

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	3. Messages

Hermione fought with Ron that night. She argued with him on everything he said about Draco and went to bed with him thinking that she was unconvinced. But as she slept, she held a deeper appreciation for Ron that she would be sure to address when she woke up in the morning. For someone who had never been Draco's biggest fan, Ron was on his side. Hermione wasn't as ignorant or as stubborn as she had seemed to be when talking to Ron. And yes, over the years, sometimes she thought that maybe, _just maybe_ , it was Draco under that Christopher Reid why the charade? As she continued to lay in bed that night, she came to the conclusion that Draco had done what he had to. What would these last sixteen years have been like had Hermione known who Chris really was?

Chaotic, she knew. It was the reason why the two of them had decided to go their separate ways after the Samuel Delaney alias fell through. Doing things the way Draco had done had certainly given them peace. Hermione smiled at the thought of it. Though she hadn't known it at the time (or rather, fought hard at the impossibility), she had spent sixteen glorious years with the love of her life. But the more she thought about it, the sadder she got, because not once had she ever been able to acknowledge Draco for who he really was.

"But maybe I can." Hermione said the moment she woke up. It was the first set of words she said for the morning and she hadn't even moved from bed yet. But if Draco really was in the house, she had to find some sort of way to communicate with him. If he could make the bed and prepare her tea, why couldn't he talk to her?

But she wouldn't do it now. As desperate as Hermione felt right now, she had to have patience. Next month the children would be off to Hogwarts and when they were gone she would put her plans into action. Catalina and Xavier didn't need to know what was going on. They needed to have their concentration focused on school and Hermione was sure that having their dead father still around would prove to be a distraction.

And so, Hermione stayed calm. The month of August was lengthy and each day was marked off the calendar with a bright red X. Catalina smiled at her one day, asking if she was counting down the days until they were thrown onto the Hogwarts express. Technically that was what Hermione was dong, but she couldn't tell her that. Instead she said that she was counting down the days until her birthday which her daughter accepted, but not without suspicion.

While the days slowly passed by Hermione's plans were underway. Both Harry and Ron knew that she thought she was being haunted. Because she had been with Ron when she found out who exactly was haunting her, Harry had to be caught up when the weekend was over. Naturally he thought she was daft and simply developing another way to cope with Chris' death. In time he had come to be on her side, though. Either that or he was faking it just so he could better watch out for her.

But within the sharing department of information, it all stopped there. Hermione kept her goal of communicating with Chris (Draco?) to herself. It wasn't that she doubted her abilities to do so, but in the event that she couldn't, or that he didn't want to talk to her, she didn't want her plans to be paraded about.

Soon it was September. Hermione had wanted to see her children gone, but now she missed them terribly. As she arrived home from seeing them off, she realized sadly that this was the first time that she had ever been in the house alone. She was either with Chris or the children. And in any case if none of them were present, either her friends were taking up space in her living room or she was doing so with theirs. She now found herself lonely and didn't like the feeling in the slightest.

With a sense of urgency Hermione dashed up the stairs and to her bedroom. For the past month she had done her research on how best to talk to the dead. From what she had learned, she found out that with lack of a medium, she should be in a place where the deceased would most likely be attracted to. For that Hermione had decided on the bedroom. It made her cheeks flush at the thought of it, but truth be told she and Chris had spent a lot of time there.

It was the first place they went to when coming home after being at work all day. It was their relaxation area even though there was a study down the hall made for just that purpose. She and Chris shared a lot of laughs in that room. They talked about things they wouldn't dare talk about elsewhere. It was a place where they felt safe. If he would come to her anywhere, it would be there.

So Hermione stood there, in the middle of the room nervously rubbing her hands together. There was no need for candles. No crystal balls. No dramatics. It should be easy trying to reach him. It wasn't like Chris was completely gone and she was calling him from the unknown. She knew where he was. He was with her always.

"Chris," Hermione called. "Chris, I know you're here. I need you to talk to me."

Hermione was turning herself in a small circle as she spoke. She wanted to get a sense of the room; to see if anything moved or simply looked out of place. So far things looked the same.

"You never left me or the children. I know that. At first I thought I was going mad, but you've been here. Helping,"

Still nothing. The room was silent. Hermione took a deep breath. It was all she could do to stop the stinging in her eyes. What was she doing? Torturing herself? Why couldn't she just be content that Chris hadn't left?

"…I've been considering something." Hermione said softly. "Believe it or not but it was Ron's idea. He got it after I dragged him to go to a Seer with me. He thinks that you, Christopher Reid, my husband of fifteen years, were really Draco Malfoy."

As soon as Hermione said so, the temperature in the room dropped significantly. She could see breath clouds as she breathed, and she placed her hands on her shoulders to keep away the cold. "Is he right? Show me a sign, _anything_ to let me know. Please."

The room, however still it was before, was full of life by now. The drawers on the bureau began to open and close as well as the blinds on the windows. The closet door that had been slightly ajar opened widely and slammed shut, and the lights flicked on and off. All at once everything stopped and became a standstill.

Hermione was in tears by now, in disbelief at it all. She stood there, sobbing like an idiot, and then quickly wiped the tears away, putting on a brave front. "Okay, use the lights. Flick them once for yes, twice for no. Do you understand?"

The lights flicked once.

"Do you have something to say to me? Something important?"

Another flick.

"Did you not want to say it in front of the Seer? Is it a secret?"

Another flick and Hermione held her breath. Her mind wandered over a thousand things that Draco might want to say to her, but she couldn't think of anything pleasant. "Is it something bad?"

The light flicked again, but to Hermione's displeasure they only flicked once. "Is someone in danger? Is that why you've stayed?"

One flick…

"Is it the children?"

Two flicks.

"Is it me?"

Two flicks yet again and Hermione was confused. "Who else could it be? It can't be you, you're already dead-"

The lights flicked once. Hermione felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and she moved to sit on the edge of her bed. The idea was that after death, all danger was gone, but clearly that wasn't so. The answer that Hermione wanted to get and that Draco wanted to give certainly couldn't be found out with simple yes-no questions. There had to be another way to get him to properly talk to her and she'd find out how even if it killed her.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the living room with books and scrap paper galore covering the floor, the sofa she was sitting on, as well as the coffee table that she was hovering over. Her eyes were tired and felt extremely strained, but she had promised herself that she wasn't going to put the books down until she had found what she was looking for. Hermione had already dedicated the past three days to her search; ignoring owls and phone calls when they came her way. There was no time for distractions. Draco was in danger and the only way to find out what kind was if she kept her head in her books.

She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn't even hear the fireplace activate in the next room. She did hear footsteps however, but didn't bother looking up. She could recognize Ron's footsteps any day and thought this little talent was a great asset because then she didn't have to divert her attention from her work.

"Merlin, send me back to the Hogwarts days, why don't you?"

Hermione smiled. She took a moment to give him eye contact and watched him sit down on the armchair that faced sideways from her.

"So this is what you've been doing instead of talking to or seeing your friends." Ron asked as he gestured to all the books and paper surrounding her. "Harry and I thought you'd become a hermit. What's with stepping into old shoes?"

Hermione sighed and flipped a few pages before answering. "I'm just doing a bit of research. I'm trying to figure out a way to reveal a ghost."

"Reveal a ghost? But Hermione, you know who's haunting you. I don't see what-"

Ron's words were cut off from him when the television in the corner of the house unexpectedly turned on. He was surprised at it, but Hermione wasn't, and she produced a sympathetic frown.

"Draco, please, I'm trying to concentrate. Do you mind turning it off or at least turning it down?"

The television was subsequently placed on mute and a few channels were changed until it settled on one that was showing a game of cricket. Ron stared bemused while Hermione's face bore a rather complacent one. She grinned and pushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"He loves cricket just as much as Quiditch." Hermione laughed. "So much for downplaying muggle sports."

Ron cocked a brow at her and she merely shrugged her shoulders and continued combing through her books. "Merlin… It's Malfoy. He's really here, isn't he?"

Hermione eyed him a moment and then huffed. "Hadn't believed me then I see."

"It's not like that at all." Ron answered quickly. "It's just… It's one thing to _hear_ about it, but to actually _see_ it? Seven years of Hogwarts ghosts hasn't prepared me well enough for this."

"It made me a bit skittish at first too. But I've gotten used to it. It's like he's still alive."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ron cleared his throat and tore his eyes from the television so he could focus on her. "So, about what you're searching for? You're trying to figure out how to reveal a ghost?"

"Yes. I don't know when, but I remember reading something about a spell that rids a ghost of its invisibility. I know it's in one of these somewhere."

"But ghosts _prefer_ to be invisible."

"Tell that to the Hogwarts ghosts." Hermione chuckled. She sighed then and closed one book just to open another. "Draco wants to be seen. He wants me to see him and I want it just the same."

"How do you know? Not that he wouldn't want it but… _he hasn't been talking to you, has he?_ "

"We've developed a system. I ask him to flick the lights for a yes-no answer. It's proven quite effective, but obviously we need to do better."

All Ron could say was "oh," and he glanced back at the television that had been turned on by Draco's doing, shivered, and then looked away from it. After a moment of contemplating it, bracing himself for Hermione's reaction, he swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Listen, you're probably going to hate me for saying this, but… Don't you think that what you're doing is just making things more real?"

Hermione looked up from her books and frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"All I'm saying is, is that right now with Malfoy turning on the television and doing other things like that is already making it like he's here. If you find that spell and make him visible, it'd be even more so. I know it's hard but you got to face the fact that he's dead and not here anymore."

Hermione jumped in fright as the rocking chair in the corner of the living room got knocked to a side and then the door to the kitchen roughly pushed open. She let out a gasp and then immediately pushed all of her things off of her.

"Oh no, you've upset him!"

Ron followed Hermione into the kitchen, mumbling in disbelief that he couldn't understand how the hell he had upset a ghost.

"Draco!" Hermione called as she stood in the middle of the kitchen. "Draco, Ron didn't mean that! Ron, say you're sorry, _please_."

"…Um…yeah, I…" Ron looked all around him and then stopped. He put his hands at the rim of his pockets out of having nothing else to do with them and gave a faux cough. "Look, Malfoy –Draco, mate, I… I didn't mean to say it like that. It's just…you've got to understand that you don't belong in this world anymore. I don't want either of you holding onto something you can't have."

Ron and Hermione's eyes were brought to the kitchen sink that lay under a window. The faucet turned on and it was pure hot water. Once the steam had covered enough of the window, Draco began writing.

"I know, but you don't understand. Not yet." Hermione read out loud. She turned to Ron who was confused at what she had just read. Sighing, she led the way back out into the living room where Hermione had left all of her materials. Her heart had gone out of looking through them and decided upon a break. Ron shook his head and ran a hand across his face.

"What did he mean, Hermione?"

"Draco's in danger, Ron."

"In danger..?" Ron repeated. "He's dead. How could he be in danger?"

"I don't know, but if I keep on with these yes-no questions it'll be years before I ask the right ones. I need to reveal him so I can figure out what's going on."

"This is unbelievable." Ron muttered. "Out of everything we've seen. Out of everything we've done. This tops it all."

"I agree." Hermione cupped her hands about her face and absentmindedly stared. "And about what you were saying before…about making Draco visible so it'd be like he was still here-"

"I'm really sorry about that, Hermione. I thought that was what this was all about. Not because he needed help-"

"It's fine, really." Hermione reassured. She took a deep breath and stared at a book in front of her. "Aside from trying to figure things out, it's what we want. Normalcy beyond the grave, that is. I understand what you're saying, Ron. Having Draco doing odds and ends around the house make me feel like I'm not really alone. And if matters weren't so pertinent, I'd want to reveal him anyway."

"I get it." Ron nodded. He then pulled to him the book she had been looking in and grabbed some parchment. "You need some help looking through all this. Let's get to work, shall we?"

* * *

Extra help came from Harry and Ginny once Ron owled them. They were brought up to speed on what was going on, and though credulous at first, having Draco fix the armchair so the footrest could come up made a full believer out of them. "He's the only one who knows how to get it out properly." Hermione said simply, and no more words were said. The four of them combed every book and loose-leafs of paper before finally realizing that what they were looking for wasn't in front of them.

"I'm going to lose my mind." Hermione breathed. Harry, who was sitting the closest to her, put an arm around her.

"Don't say that. We'll figure it out. Can you at least remember how long ago it was when you came across reading about ghost revealing?"

"What does it matter? It's not here. We've looked through everything twice, three times even."

"Merlin, I hope Malfoy's nowhere around listening to you give up like this." Ginny huffed. " _Think_ … You read a lot, Hermione, but there's only so many places you do it."

"I suppose." Hermione sighed. She had gone through every room in the house and found every book and piece of paper there was to find, eventually throwing them onto the coffee table and floor. She had come across the desired text months ago. Before the summer. And yet it wasn't entirely cold. She knew this because one of her idiosyncrasies was to read with gloves on if she felt cold, so it had to have been during the spring. Hermione supposed she could go to the local libraries and ask them to look through their records and see what books she had taken out during that time. It wouldn't have been much since she preferred to buy books rather than having them loaned.

"What do you think he could be in danger of?"

Hermione snapped her eyes to Harry's. She shrugged and sunk into the softness of the sofa with her arms crossed over her chest. "I wish I knew. Or maybe I don't want to know. What could _possibly_ trouble someone in death?"

Everyone in the room shuddered at the thought of it.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, I think Hermione's last line pretty sums up the tone for the rest of the story. Draco needs saving, but from what and how is the big mystery :)

-WP


	4. Patients

Draco's presence felt cold. Ever since Hermione let on that she knew he was haunting her and that his alias was no longer fooling her, she felt cold all the time. He was always there, waiting and watching and helping out wherever he could. It was funny, Hermione thought. No matter how good of a person he was during his life, in death he caused others around him to develop frostbite.

Hermione no longer opened the blinds. The neighbors' houses were very close to hers and she was getting tired of the stares. They would often spot her in her bedroom, smiling, laughing, and talking to someone they couldn't see. No, Hermione couldn't get more than a flick of the lights to get answers out of Draco, but that didn't mean that he wasn't listening. She had taken up the habit of talking out loud –describing her day in great detail when she got back home from work and recalling memories that she had long forgotten.

Sometimes it got sad. Sometimes Hermione paused in her speech and stood in the middle of her bedroom with a frozen smile, waiting for Draco to respond to her or hear a laugh at a joke but receiving nothing. Once she collapsed to the floor in an explosion of tears. She screamed aloud for Draco to talk to her –to not be a mute and to stop ignoring her. Right then and there Hermione felt like she had been dipped into a bucket of ice. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she shivered. She imagined that Draco was hugging her. She imagined that he was telling her that it was alright. If only she could hear it for real.

From time to time Hermione wondered what this was doing to her –to have something so close and yet so far away. It was a mental and emotional torture that she simultaneously wanted to keep and push away. It was doing her no good. A month of this had made Hermione look years older and everyone took notice. Her supervisor at the Ministry thought it best that she take off from work for the rest of the year.

"You lost your husband, Hermione." Her boss had said. "Clearly you're not ready to be back yet. Take your time."

Hermione had waned to tell him that she hadn't "lost her husband." He was simply unreachable. But that was something that couldn't be said. Her friends knew. And each one was working overtime in trying to find out a way to reveal ghosts. It was the only way to potentially end this. "Potentially" because it was decided secretly among Harry, Ron, and Ginny that revealing Draco might backfire. They wondered if it would put Hermione in an even deeper slump. Then where would they be? But one thing that they knew for sure was that right now their dear friend was living an utter hell.

In late October Hermione was reading in her study. She had a blanket wrapped around her and her head kept nodding to the left because of how sleepy she felt. Three hours of ghost research had been done prior and this reading time was her break. Unfortunately her eyes were too tired to make it. What eventually brought her out of her reverie was the sound of her fireplace going off in the next room.

Lethargically, Hermione moved. She left the study and into the hallway and saw Ron who was staring at her with concern. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Right now if that counts." Hermione shrugged and then gestured to a piece of paper folded over in Ron's hand. "What's that?"

"It's for you." Ron glanced at it and then sighed. "I went to Madame Giana. Harry, Ginny, and I…we've been looking through everything for you and then it hit us. Seers deal with the dead all the time, so why not-?"

"She knows how to reveal ghosts?" Hermione said excitedly. She reached for the paper in Ron's hand, but he pulled it out of reach.

"No,"

"No? Ron, stop playing games with me. I need-"

"You need rest." Ron ordered her. He tucked the paper into his back pocket and then proceeded to lead Hermione to her bedroom. "You've been going downhill long enough, Hermione. You're not getting this until you sleep and sleep _well_."

"But Ron… Draco-"

"Draco will understand. Besides," Ron smiled. "This is the first time you'll be seeing him in months. I'm sure you don't want to look like a train wreck."

* * *

Hermione had known that she wasn't getting enough sleep, but she didn't actually know how deprived she was until Ron ordered her to bed. She had thrown herself onto it frustratingly and had lain down. No sooner had she put her head to her pillow did her eyes close and she began dreaming. When she finally awoke her body felt refreshed –more so than she'd felt in a long time.

Ron had been right. The last thing that she wanted to feel was self-conscious when she revealed Draco, and Hermione meticulously took her time as she showered and dressed. Near to an hour later she found Ron in the kitchen who had taken it upon himself to cook something and to wash the dishes in the sink. Hermione made herself known by a simple clearing of her throat and he smiled.

"Feeling better?" Ron asked as he turned off the faucet. Hermione nodded.

"Yes, I do. Thanks for that. Have you…felt Draco around?"

"From time to time, yeah. He was in here a few minutes ago when I started in on the dishes, but I think he saw that I was about to freeze to death so he left."

Ron dried his hands on a nearby hand towel, stuck his hand into his back pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that Hermione had been denied only a few hours earlier. "It's a Latin incantation, that's all. Say it three times and you'll be able to see him. Owl me later on, okay?"

"Wait, you're leaving?" Hermione said perplexed, but Ron quickly explained.

"Far be it from me to like taking orders from a Seer, but Madame Giana said to go. Something about everyone has their own ghosts and other things following them. You don't want to reveal _everything_."

Hermione nodded in comprehension. She knew very well what he was talking about through general reading. A human being was never alone really with Muses and guardians hanging about. And no one ever had an inkling that they were there –just a happy feeling that maybe, _just maybe_ , there was someone looking over their shoulder.

After Ron left Hermione went upstairs to her bedroom. She closed and locked her door and moved to stand in the middle of the room with the incantation in her hands.

"Draco?" She called. "Draco, where are you?"

Hermione's teeth chattered when she felt a cold breeze side-sweep her. Yes, Draco was there, and now she was unfolding the paper Ron gave her and examined the words neatly written. _Ego ostendo sum vos quod vos volo…_

She took a deep breath and said it once. She said it a second time and then a third. On the third try Hermione had closed her eyes. She didn't want to be disappointed. She had started out saying the incantation with a vision in her head that Draco would suddenly appear in a dazzling white light. She didn't want to repeat the incantation for the third time only to be met with nothing but silence and the same bedroom she had become numb to. It wouldn't be fair. And so she stood there, paper in her hands, nearly crumpled, and afraid to open her eyes and see what she'd find.

With a jerk within her, Hermione snapped her eyes open. She was met with her bedroom window and curtains which brought on her inconsolable urge to cry. It didn't work. Her hopes had been raised to an all new height only for everything to fail. Immediately she turned on her heels to flee the bedroom and sob relentlessly when she stopped.

There he was. Draco, someone Hermione thought she would never be able to see again, was standing in front of her like he had never died. Her breath caught in her throat and she could no longer remember how to breathe. She merely stared at Draco in disbelief –him standing in front of her and smiling with all the joy in the world. Hesitantly, Hermione took her hand and raised it to Draco's cheek. Instead of feeling warmth her hand went through him. She frowned, as did he. He looked real, but he wasn't. He was merely a ghost. A haunting spirit that Hermione had revealed, and all at once instead of feeling sadness, she felt rage.

"I wish I could hit you." Hermione snapped. Draco stared at her bemused as she repeatedly tried to touch him, but failing each time. She retracted her hand and brought her angry eyes to his confused ones. "I'd thought about it, sure. Ron explained it to me; he tried to to stop denying it. It made sense and I understood but still I can't… Sixteen years, Draco. Why didn't you tell me that it was you all this time? Do you realize the _hell_ that I was put through?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry." Draco apologized. He reached out to touch her, but recoiled quickly. "But it had to be done. I didn't have a choice."

Hermione snorted and crossed her arms. "There's always a choice, Draco."

"Not this time. Think about it, Hermione. Think about after Cat was born and how many Aurors came up to you asking questions about me and about 'Chris.' Keeping you in the dark was the only way to keep you safe. Had I been found out again there's no doubt in my mind that the Ministry would've gotten you too, and the charges would've stuck that time. Cat couldn't lose the both of us. It _had_ to be done this way."

Hermione wanted to be furious with him, but logic stopped her. Instead she let herself smile and allowed her arms fall to the rim of her pants' pockets. "No doubt in your mind, huh..? What happened to those loopholes you used to preach so much to me about?"

Draco grinned. "Those loopholes turn into risks once you have kids."

* * *

Hermione owled Ron, Harry, and Ginny. She was waiting for them in the living room and all she could do was give a huge smile as she looked at their faces as their gaze lingered on Draco. He was standing next to Hermione, dressed in what he had died in: a pair of black pants and a dark blue button-up shirt tucked in. He greeted them and made a joke to Harry that he still owed him ten galleons for the bet they had made on a Quiditch match.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and gave a short, low whistle. "Um…yeah, sure… I'll give it to Hermione, I suppose."

"Still can't bloody believe it." Ron said as he became the first to sit down. Harry and Ginny quickly followed suit. "What's it…? Wait, no. I shouldn't ask."

"What's it like being dead?" Draco asked for him. Ron's face tinged some, but he nodded. He sighed and then shrugged. "Kind of like feeling empty. Here I am in the house I've lived in for fifteen years and I can only do a fraction of what I used to. But it's better than not being able to do anything at all."

"Hermione told us that you thought that you were in danger." Harry spoke. "In danger from what?"

"I don't know." Draco frowned. "All I know is that I am and all of you by extension I'm sure."

"Do you remember what happened the night you died?" Ginny asked. Draco shook his head and clenched his teeth in frustration.

"Nothing. It's all a blur to me. And even if I get flashes of that night, that's all it is to me: flashes. None of it makes any sense."

"What are the flashes of?"

"St. Mungo's. I'm walking, sometimes standing still. I see faces but they're fuzzy. At one point I'm hovering over a bed, a patient I suppose. Next thing you know I'm somewhere I don't recognize and I…" Draco stopped for a moment, frowned at Hermione's concerned gaze and continued. "I feel like I'm having a heart attack."

"That's what it said, the coroner's report." Hermione told him. "It said that you died of a heart attack."

"But that can't possibly be right-"

"But you just said-"

"I know what I said. But if there's one thing I remember indefinitely about that night, it's that I felt like someone was trying to kill me. The pain in my chest wasn't natural. Living a life deeply rooted in magic told me that. That's why I stayed behind. To find out and to protect you."

Hermione frowned. She played with the hem of her sleeve for a moment and then spoke. "I guess it's obvious what we have to do then. Go to St. Mungo's. Try to find some clues as to what really happened." She stood and then turned to Harry. "You're coming with me. I'm going to need a distraction, and what's better than having a famous person standing in front of you?"

* * *

Hermione and Harry headed to St. Mungo's immediately. Hermione's first thoughts about this were that this task was going to be difficult. Not because she nor Harry didn't have any idea of what they were looking for, but because almost everyone in the hospital knew her. It was hard not to walk through the place without getting stopped by someone expressing their hellos along with their sympathy. Only seven minutes in St. Mungo's and already Hermione had heard "Chris was the best Healer we had" at least five times. At that she could only laugh and wondered if an education in Healing was part of Draco's father's necessities as was Wizard Law School.

What Hermione thought would be the best place to start was the employee records. From what Draco had told her, they always kept a record of the patients that the Healers attended to at the main desk where the receptionist was. The plan was simple. Get the receptionist's attention, lure her away with Harry's help, and see what she could find.

Harry stood afar off and hidden while Hermione walked up to the front desk with a smile on her face. It was there for a false sense of security as well as a mask of her annoyance because she knew the receptionist personally.

"Oh, Hermione, I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Hi, Colleen…" Hermione greeted. "I know it's been a while. With Chris gone I haven't had the time to come visit."

"In retrospect that's quite the good thing." Colleen smiled. "You are just here for a _friendly_ visit, aren't you? Nothing's the matter, is it?"

"Oh no, not at all. I have a friend who's here and I just wanted to check on her."

"Well, I can get that sorted out for you. As you know, you need a visitor's pass. What's your friend's name so I can find out her room number and put your visit into the system?"

Hermione was smiling more than was necessary. This conversation wasn't supposed to be going this far. By now Harry should've already come to her rescue, asked something of the receptionist that only she could solve, and lead her away from the desk. To kill time and to hide her reluctance to answer, Hermione coughed and glanced down the hall. Sadly Harry had gotten cornered by a patient who was tremendously excited at meeting the famous Harry Potter.

"Your friend's name..?" Colleen asked again.

 _Think of a common last name… Think of a common last time…_ "Davidson," Hermione said as nonchalantly as possible. Colleen went on to ask for a first name and Hermione blurted out whatever came to her mind first. "Jackie. Jackie Davidson."

"I don't see a Jackie here. Did you mean Jacqueline?"

Hermione held in her sigh of relief and gently nodded. "Yes, that's who I mean. Her other friends and I always call her Jackie."

"Completely understandable," Colleen said as took out her wand and pointed it as a small structure to her right. "This will make your visitor's pass in a quick second."

As soon as Hermione saw Colleen with her wand out, she took hers out as well and very subtly. With a minor movement the visitor pass maker began to smoke. Colleen stared at it confusedly as Hermione smiled broadly and hid both it and her wand before Colleen could see.

"I'm so sorry about this, Hermione, but it seems that the pass maker is on the fritz. Darn thing is always messing up. What good is magic if machinery _still_ doesn't work? I'm going to have to head into the back for your pass. I'll be right back."

"Take your time." Hermione told her and once she was gone she quickly got behind the desk and prayed to Merlin that no Healers decided to walk by and see what she was doing. Luckily Colleen hadn't logged herself out of the receptionist area when she left the desk. Doing so would've prevented Hermione from getting behind it which was why it was St. Mungo's protocol to do just that. Obviously Colleen had trusted Hermione enough not to go snooping. Stupid mistake.

"I'm so sorry." Harry came after a minute or so after Hermione began looking through various folders kept for Healers in the desk drawers. "I couldn't get away without more patients coming up to me."

"It's okay. Colleen's gone for now and –I think I just found what we need!" Hermione smiled in triumph as she took Draco's file from among the others. Despite being dead, his file was still among the others and would be required to remain so until a year had passed. The word "Inactive" had been printed on the front to indicate that Draco was no longer working at St. Mungo's. Hermione took a deep, contented breath as she opened it, but as soon as she did her face fell and her heart raced with anxiety.

"What? What is it?"

"…Draco's last patient." Hermione looked up at Harry and turned the folder over to him. He found what Hermione had and turned his eyes to her in a flash.

" _Thorn…_? The guy who ran Aurors versus the Condemned?"

Hermione nodded. Matthew Thorn, the one who had started the chain of dominoes falling was the last person to see Draco alive and Hermione found that to be no such coincidence. Draco had the right to think he was in danger. And now Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had ever felt so vulnerable.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Hello! First, my apologies for not posting yesterday. I was away from home much longer than anticipated that day. Second, the cycle of events is starting to come around! Matthew Thorn... This can't be good at all, now can it?

Thanks for reading! Also, I shall be posting a new story soon called 'Til Death Do Us Part. My guess is it'll be up sometime this month, most likely getting posted on Thursdays. Feel free to check out my profile for more information on it :D

-WP


	5. Azkaban

Ron and Ginny had stayed at the house with Draco. When Hermione and Harry returned all three of them turned to them anxiously, but were soon frightened to tell them what had been discovered at the hospital. Harry sighed. Hermione plopped herself onto the nearest chair and stared at Draco. He was staring at her in confusion, but instead of abating his worries all Hermione could do was continue to stare at him. She took in his transparent form that didn't look so transparent if you didn't look too hard.

With a deep inhale Hermione broke the silence. "You prided yourself on being a great Healer." She said to Draco. "I admired you for that, but sometimes you _have_ to say no." She sighed heavily and blurted her next sentence out. "Matthew Thorn was your last patient."

Ginny gasped, Ron stared wide-eyed, and Draco showed no flicker of emotion. Instead he sucked his teeth, stuck his hands in his pockets, and shrugged.

"You're mad at me for tending to him, aren't you?"

"You sound like you remember doing it." Hermione accused. " _Do you?_ "

"No, I don't. But I know why I would have. How would it have looked if I had turned him down? I had no reason to do it."

"The man had forced us to try to kill each other. You had every reason!"

" _He_ may have, but Christopher Reid didn't." Harry countered. "Chris didn't know him. He may have known what he did, but a Healer is a Healer, Hermione. Who's to say even after all this time the Ministry still isn't suspicious? Turning Thorn away would just make people think and wonder again like before."

Hermione groaned in frustration and massaged her temples. "Okay, fine. But knowing that Thorn has come into our lives again doesn't make things simpler."

"Damn right it doesn't." Ron agreed. "What was he doing at St. Mungo's anyway? I thought Azkaban had its own facilities for people who got sick or hurt?"

Harry looked towards Hermione and egged her on with a nod of his head. All eyes turned to her then and, very guiltily, she took out a beige folder from the inside of her jacket. "It's Draco's work file."

"You nicked it from St. Mungo's?" Ginny smiled. Hermione ignored the rouge in her cheeks and nodded.

"I'm hoping no one notices. From what I gathered Thorn was sick. Azkaban officials thought that he was going to die so they sent him to St. Mungo's to see if he'd get better."

"And I die instead?" Draco scoffed as he crossed his arms. "Well, that's fair."

"Maybe that was the point." Ron suggested. "Maybe there's a way to transfer sickness. To transfer death."

"That can't be possible." Hermione protested. "I know my magic. You can transfer a lot of things, but fatal sickness isn't one of them."

"I hate to tell you this Hermione, but that's not true." Draco sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "You know _good_ magic. Dark magic entails some things you couldn't believe. And if Thorn could get me out of Azkaban all those years ago, I'm betting he could kill me just as subtly."

"But that doesn't make any sense. This sort of murder takes planning. Thorn would've had to have known that he'd get to you if he was sent to St. Mungo's. He'd have to know who you were! He couldn't have known your alias. No one does-"

"Except Ian," Harry brought up. "Ian knew everything."

"And he's dead." Hermione added. "He died a full two weeks before all of this happened."

"But in the end Ian still shared Azkaban as a home with Thorn. They still could've met and talked. Who knows? Thorn could've carried out what Ian failed to do. A friend helping a friend in a sick sort of way."

"'Sick' doesn't seem quite to describe it." Ginny frowned. "You're going to have to talk to Thorn, Hermione. If he hasn't died yet, that is."

Hermione nodded. _If he hasn't died yet…_ To think that there would _actually_ be a time where Hermione prayed to Merlin that the bastard was still living and not buried six-feet-deep.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure if she'd be able to see Thorn. She had no legitimate reason to see him -especially almost twenty years after suffering at his hands. But luckily Merlin was on her side. She had gone to the Head Azkaban Official and, as politely as she could, asked if it would be possible to see an inmate. At first he was rough with her, asking if who she wanted to see was a family member of some sort. "We've got the lowest of the low here, Miss. Not many people come around here for _visitation_." Hermione had replied that she would've been surprised if the inmates had visitors and that they didn't disserve any. With a deep sigh she said that she wanted to see Matthew Thorn. After that the HAO took in her face, smiled, and then relaxed.

"I'd do it too, you know." He said with a nod of approval. "See the damned devil before he went. Let 'im see my face before dropping straight to hell. I'll let you in."

Hermione thanked him for his cooperation, but as she was led to a visitation room in the basement of Azkaban away from the Dementors, she felt ambivalent. What would she do when she saw him? The man had introduced her to a full twenty-four hours of hell that felt like years. Just thinking about it made her envision herself choking him. But once Thorn was sitting in a chair in the middle of a small and empty room, Hermione felt hollow. Her anger had been replaced with pity as she watched Thorn cough and wheeze repeatedly.

"You've come to torture me before I die." Thorn coughed. Hermione lost her sympathy then and angrily crossed her arms.

"You did the same to me once. Or have you forgotten?"

Thorn nodded and rubbed his arms up and down. "What do you want?"

"You tell me. You're the reason that I'm here. You know what you did to my husband."

"I haven't a bloody idea who your husband is." Thorn gave a pitiful asthma-like wheeze and then sighed. "In case _you've_ forgotten, I've been here for the last two decades. It's not like I get a daily newsletter as to who's married who."

"Fine, I'll give you a hint. He was the one who treated you when you were sent to St. Mungo's in the early summer."

Thorn cocked a brow in the air. Soon he began nodding. "That was him, eh? Good man. Knows his magic... What happened to him?"

Hermione felt herself shaking. She had an uncanny ability to read people, and to her utter dismay she couldn't help but feel that Thorn wasn't faking at being naïve. He was sitting there, looking as though he was on death's door, and staring at her expectantly. Hermione let her arms fall to her side and her hands slip into her pockets. With a gentle rock back onto her heels for a split second she gave a sad sigh. Thorn, as though her sigh let him know that it was truly something terrible, gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry."

"Why should you be?" Hermione snapped at him. "You're the same man under whose control many people died. People like you show no remorse."

"Years under the shadows of Dementors put remorse in me." Thorn admitted. "I doubt you've ever had the luxury of being at their disposal? Days, weeks, months, and _years_ under that kind of hell has made me to regret… And now look at me. A pitiful soul dying of a bloody disease... Not even a proper wizard's death. You think I had something to do with your husband's death, don't you? As payback for landing me in here?"

Hermione turned cold where she stood. "…I never said that he died. I said that you did _something_ to him." She suddenly walked over to where Thorn sat and leaned over the table that separated them. "It's Azkaban rule that a visitor's wand is turned over to the HAO before going into the visiting room. He failed to take _mine_. What did you do?"

Thorn eyed the wand she was referring to inside her pocket. Flicking his eyes back to her, he coughed to the side and resettled himself in his seat. "I save my own arse because I'm selfish, Miss Granger. Or should I say Ms. Reid? I was presented with an opportunity and I took it. Your husband's death will benefit me in a very good way, and I'm looking forward to it."

"What does his dying have _anything_ to do with you? Is it just the satisfaction that I'm suffering?"

"Not in the slightest," Thorn said nonchalantly. He then shrugged and produced a smile. "I think a question like that would be better asked to another inmate. Unfortunately for you, he's been dead since the summer."

* * *

Hermione's mind was running ragged. Instead of getting answers she just got more questions. Thorn wasn't as innocent as he had first seemed (as if she had actually believed it), and he knew about Draco's death. But did he know that it was really Draco in disguise? Maybe, maybe not… But what was even more troubling was what Thorn had said last. Did he mean Ian? Maybe Harry had been right and Ian and Thorn had talked. Perhaps they had formed a plan to get Draco killed, but even then what was the consequence of it all? What was it that Thorn was getting out of all of this of which the prize he had alluded to he had not yet gotten?

It was all too confusing and when Hermione arrived home she wanted to think about none of it. She closed the door behind her when she entered and took off neither coat nor shoes. Instead she headed into the kitchen with the intention of making a cup of tea. The tea was already prepared for her when she got there however, and Hermione smiled. Draco was there as well, staring out of the window.

"Do you remember how dead set against living in a muggle neighborhood I was?" Draco asked as he turned to her. Hermione nodded as she sat down at the kitchen counter.

"And when I said that we should buy a car and put in a phone."

"Did you know it then?" He continued, a frown having set upon his face. "Did you have any inkling that there was something wrong?"

"Of course I did." Hermione admitted. "I thought of you every day. And then I felt ashamed because you were supposed to be at some undisclosed location. Not here in my house and as my husband."

"I sensed that. Your shame that is… Sometimes when I looked at you, you looked so sad. And I hate to say this love, but I was rather proud of it. The fact that even though, in essence, you married another, you still loved me."

"Yes, I did." Hermione smiled and then she sighed. "What are we going to tell the children? No, not _we, me._ What am _I_ going to tell the children? This'll blow their minds apart. Especially Xavier. A whole seven years of Hogwarts ghosts couldn't get Ron's mind wrapped around it. Our son will have a field day looking at you."

"If this whole situation gets resolved before he and Cat come home for Christmas then looking at me won't be a problem."

"What do you mean?"

Draco saw the confusion of his wife's face and took a deep breath in and out. With reluctance he spoke again. "You can't avoid the light forever, Hermione." He said slowly. "It comes back. And when we figure this whole mess with Thorn out, the light will be there. I'll have to go."

Hermione's mouth went numb. She removed her hands from the table top and placed them in her lap to keep them from shaking and then she spoke only when she thought her voice wouldn't quiver. "Why? Why can't you stay?"

"This world isn't for me anymore, you know that. And besides I…" Draco's words trailed off as he stared at the floor. "I've seen what my presence does to you. You've lived with guilt for almost twenty years. I can't let you live with desperate anxiety for the rest of your life. Once I know that you and the kids are safe, I'm leaving. Now, what happened when you saw Thorn at Azkaban?"

Hermione couldn't think of it. She couldn't think of Draco leaving her again, but this time for good. What would she do then? Live the remainder of her life in a house all alone? Xavier just started Hogwarts and would be calling it his home for a full seven years. Yes, Catalina was in her sixth year and would be finished soon enough, but Hermione's dear daughter already expressed her desires to go to wizard university once Hogwarts was over. Sure, Hermione had friends, but they had their lives too. In the end she was convinced that she would be alone at heart as well as in reality without Draco there.

"Hermione?" Draco called. Hermione snapped out of her reverie and stared at her dead husband. "What did Thorn say to you?"

"Nothing," She lied. "The man's aged about one hundred years since he's been in Azkaban and looked to be on death's door. I got nothing from him."

* * *

 **Author's note:** And the mystery continues! Definitely more questions than answers, but everything will come together in its own time :). I feel terrible for Hermione. She's in such agony over this :/

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	6. Gone

"Hermione, you could hardly get anything pass the man when he was alive. Did you _really_ think that you could get half a shot by doing it when he was dead?"

Hermione frowned. She was at Ginny's who was scolding her about lying to Draco about Thorn. It had been a good idea at first –lying to him that is –but it was slowly eating away at her every time she looked up at her dear friend.

"Is it so bad that I didn't want Draco to leave?" Hermione asked desperately. "I panicked. When he started talking about going I just… I couldn't imagine him leaving me after getting him back against all odds."

"I understand." Ginny said comfortingly. "And I also understand how much you love him, which is why you _have_ to tell him what Thorn said. Maybe Draco could even fill in the blanks. What he said to you made absolutely no sense and there're so many pieces that are missing. Only when we get those can we put this whole thing together. Promise me that you'll tell him."

"…I will, I promise."

* * *

Hermione didn't want to go directly home after leaving Ginny's, and so she found herself wandering about wherever her legs and apparation took her. She must've gone to at least four different towns before finally settling in Diagon Alley. And yet after about five minutes of being there she immediately wanted to leave just as she did when she had gone to all those other places.

At first Hermione thought that it was just Draco. It had been determined long ago that his spirit produced a frigid air around people, and Hermione merely thought that maybe it was feeling even colder because of how guilty she felt about lying to him about Thorn. But the icy hand that enveloped her at home always stayed at home. Outside of it her body calmed and regulated itself.

But not today.

Today Hermione felt like a blanket of knitted ice cubes was wrapped around her and no matter what she did she couldn't shake it loose. She had been in town walking up and down the streets to let the sun penetrate her as best as it could, but it proved effortless. _Every_ town was effortless. Diagon Alley would prove to be her last spot. If she didn't feel better after perusing the streets for the third time she would head directly to St. Mungo's. Why on earth should she feel like she was going into shock due to hyperthermia?

"Ms. Reid!"

Hermione stopped and turned on her heel. She looked all around her for the voice that spoke her name but saw no one. It wasn't until that it was whispered again that she saw Madame Giana in the doorway of her shoppe and motioning for Hermione to come inside.

As confused as she was, Hermione went to her. But before even figuring out what the old woman wanted, Hermione was quickly pulled inside and instructed to sit. Hermione was bemused by Madame Giana's actions as well as repulsed at how sweaty the woman's hand had been. In fact the Seer was positively _dripping_ in sweat, and by the looks of it, it was because the woman had set fires in medium-sized cauldrons all around her shoppe to practically turn it into an oven.

"You're still cold." Madame Giana stated. Hermione barely gave a nod before a cup of something hot was shoved into her hands. "Drink it, _now_."

Hermione glanced at the cup that was full of some dark liquid. She took a small sip at the woman's orders and gagged on it due to the horrid taste. "For Merlin's sake, _what is this?_ "

" _Drink it now!_ Unless you'd rather freeze to death. You'll only grow colder if you don't."

With nothing else said, Hermione grit her teeth and swallowed the unknown beverage. Some seconds later instead of feeling comfortable in Madame Giana's shoppe, she began to feel like she was a turkey being cooked and immediately started to fan herself with her hand.

Madame Giana let out a sigh of relief at the sight of seeing Hermione sweat. Soon all of the sources of heat in the shoppe were extinguished and the elderly woman sat herself opposite Hermione who had taken out her wand to cool herself down.

"How did you know?" Hermione asked her. "About how I was feeling? About how to fix me?"

Madame Giana gave her a crooked smile. She cupped her hands on the round table and shrugged. "I'm an old bird, Ms. Reid. I've been in the business for a long time. I'm also a natural Seer –not trained to see and interpret things. Your energy has been under my nose ever since the death of your husband. It's done nothing but grown stronger since then."

Hermione grew alert. She stopped cooling herself and stared at Madame Giana harshly. " _Do you know what happened when my husband died?_ "

"No. Nothing more than that he stayed instead of moving on."

"And?" Hermione insisted. "There's more. I know there is."

Madame Giana took a deep, shaky breath. She was nervous and Hermione knew it. It took a full fifteen seconds before the old woman spoke again and when she did, Hermione was staring at her wide-eyed in alarm.

"I have a _what_ clung to me?"

"An evil spirit," Madame Giana repeated. "Someone died _very_ upset with you, Ms. Reid. That's why you've been feeling cold."

"But I still don't understand." Hermione said frustratingly. "Draco's been around me for weeks and _he_ makes me feel cold. What's the difference between that and this…other thing?"

"The 'other thing' learned to manipulate the cold it gives so that it could harm whoever it wished. In this case it was you."

* * *

Hermione went home paranoid. As soon as she opened her front door she immediately went upstairs to where she kept her owl, Pearl, a speed owl, and hastily wrote letters to both Harry and Ginny and to Ron. Some minutes into writing the second letter, Hermione felt a chill overcome her. She turned around in fright only to find Draco entering the room.

He frowned. "What's the matter?"

"You're not the only one in danger." Hermione replied, finished writing Ron's letter and attached both to Pearl and sent her off. Once the owl was out of sight she sat down in the nearest chair and placed her head in her hands.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Draco asked, full of concern. Hermione raised her head up and looked at him –or through him rather. In certain light he was more see-through than at other times.

"Can you see other ghosts?"

Draco shook his head. He sighed and placed his hands in his pockets. "No. It's been baffling me to be honest, but no, I haven't seen any. Hermione, what's this about, please? Why do you think you're in danger?"

Hermione inhaled and exhaled deeply. She could feel her body shaking. "I feel cold when you're near me. But today…today was different. After I left Ginny's I felt cold _all the time_. It felt like I was locked in a freezer and nothing could help. A Seer from Diagon Alley helped me –gave me some odd potion. Then she told me an evil spirit was haunting me."

Draco's eyes expanded, but before he could say anything the sound of the Floo hit their ears. Soon Hermione's name was being shouted throughout the house and she and Draco went downstairs. Harry, Ron, and Ginny all looked like they had heard the news of someone else's death. Once they were all settled on seats, Hermione picked up from where she left off with Draco.

"Who could be haunting you?" Ginny asked. "We all know Draco's far from being an evil spirit."

"Madame Giana told me that it was someone who was more than a little upset with me when he or she died." Hermione explained and all at once everyone grew quiet.

"Ian," Draco breathed. "It has to be Ian. Who else would have a big enough grudge against you to want to kill you?"

"But he died _months_ ago." Hermione reasoned. "Ian's not exactly the patient type when he's got a vendetta."

"The guy's dead. Why rush?" Ron interjected. "How'd he die anyway?"

"Heart attack," both Harry and Hermione said in unison and Draco swore.

"What are the odds," Draco began. "That the both of us would die of the same thing and so close together?"

"Thorn did come from Azkaban when you treated him." Ginny chimed in. She then turned to Hermione and urged her with her eyes. "It makes sense, _doesn't it_?"Sighing, Hermione turned to Draco –Harry and Ron also since she realized that she hadn't told them either.

"Thorn admitted to me, however subtly, that Ian instructed him to do something to you at the hospital. That whatever it was would benefit him and that that reward would come from Ian."

"What?" Harry said in disbelief.

"How could you not tell us?!" Ron said in astonishment.

Draco was livid. "I specifically _asked you_ what Thorn told you. Why did you-?"

"I'm sorry." Hermione pleaded all of them. She turned to Draco with the saddest eyes. "I'm sorry, but you… You were talking about going away after all of this was over and… The closer we are to solving this, the closer I am to saying goodbye to you. I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry."

Draco, however angry he was at first, softened his gaze. He nodded in understanding and sighed. "It's okay. At least now we know for sure Ian is involved in this and that our deaths were no accidents. Now we need to figure out the how and the why all the while keeping you safe, Hermione."

"So what's the next step?"

"It'd be great to do an autopsy on Ian's body." Harry said. "If he's the orchestrator in all of this, we could see what happened."

"Good idea, but do any of us have the money to pay off a few people?" Ron commented. "We won't be able to get to Ian's body without some sort of attention. Not to mention the Healer we'd have to get to do the autopsy."

"A regular St. Mungo's Healer won't do." Draco inputted. "They know nothing of the kind of dark magic that this is." He then began to smile and then crossed his arms over his chest. "But being a Malfoy has always had its perks. I'll do the autopsy myself so long as one of you doesn't mind a little possession."

"You can use me." Hermione said readily. She didn't miss the looks of relief on her friends' faces.

"There's still the matter of getting to Ian's body." Ron added, but Draco waved him off.

"Forget Ian's body. What killed him most likely killed me too. We'll use mine."

* * *

Hermione swore that when she had lain Chris to rest –or Draco rather –that she would never visit the cemetery again with the exception of holidays, anniversaries, and his birthday. Now here she was at three in the morning with Harry and Ron traipsing through a graveyard. Ginny was at home with the children seeing that Molly was a lot less rambunctious to deal with three children aged twelve, ten, and six. Draco was left back at the house. He had learned months ago that he was bound to the house and unable to leave. That had gotten Hermione's mind ticking and wondering about Ian. Draco was stuck haunting one particular location and yet Ian could roam free and get to her wherever she was? It didn't make sense, but Hermione could only deal with one headache at a time. They were now standing over Draco's grave.

Hermione stared at it with a frown and she could feel her friends' eyes on her. It was odd. She knew what she was about to do and had no reservations about it. Maybe it was because she had Draco's permission to desecrate his burial site. Either way, she took out her wand and readied the spell needed to dig up six feet of dirt.

"Do you think he's…?" Ron let his words trail. A warning look had been shot at him from Harry, but Hermione knew what he meant. Draco had been in the earth since the early summer. It was October now. She had some familiarity with wizard burials, but even magic couldn't preserve a body for too long.

"Let's get this over with."

The plan was simple. Two people would dig while the third would keep watch. The odds of someone being in the cemetery at this time of night was slim, but there was always that one person who got their jollies off being in a place like this. They'd resize the body, carry it in a shoe box, and bring it back to the house. Draco would possess Hermione and do the autopsy in one of their spacious rooms at home.

A typical Saturday night.

After what seemed like hours of digging (in reality only a half an hour) they began to see the top of the coffin. A lump started to rise in Hermione's throat as more of the coffin could be seen. She swallowed, the lump still there, and soon there was a hand on her shoulder.

"You alright?" Harry asked. Hermione looked at him, swallowed once more, and nodded.

"Open it." She said, and Ron flicked his wand once. His fears about seeing a decomposing body were a complete waste of time. Hermione stared wide-eyed and got down on her hands and knees. She peered into the coffin as far as she could without falling in and still couldn't believe it.

" _Where the hell is Draco's body_? _"_

* * *

 **Author's note:** First, apologies for the lateness! Second, cliff-hangers! Yey! Well, you may not like them, but I love writing them. If you're familiar with my writing then you know that haha. The mystery gets deeper and deeper and it'll only continue :)

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	7. Frostbite

Harry, Ron, and Hermione repacked the dirt as fast as they could and, without much caution, disapparated from where they were. When they got back to Hermione's place, Draco was sitting in the living room waiting for them. He stood up when they entered with an expectant face, but then it dropped as he regarded theirs.

"What happened?" Draco asked. Hermione looked to Harry and Ron before answering and shook her head in disbelief.

"Draco, I don't know how to say this but…your body's… Your body's gone."

" _Gone_?"

"Gone, mate." Ron repeated as he leaned against the staircase. "Coffin's clean as day as though a body was never in it."

"How the hell is that even possible?" Draco questioned with wide eyes. Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know. There were maybe a hundred people at your funeral." Hermione told him. "But who there would be in cahoots with Ian or even Thorn to take it? _How_ would they have?"

"It'd be pretty damn noticeable to do it at a funeral." Harry huffed. "But it's been months. We were going to dig him up. Someone obviously beat us to the punch."

"But to what purpose?"

"Oh I can think of plenty ways a corpse would benefit someone." Draco said grimly. "Controlling a spirit, for one."

Hermione snapped her eyes to him. "Controlling you, specifically…"

"To do what, exactly?" Ron asked shakily. Draco casually shrugged to rid his anxiety, but it was still evident.

"Anything. Keep me bound to the house for starters. Hurt people, to-"

"Follow Hermione from town to town and try to freeze her to death?" Harry suggested. Hermione immediately protested.

"No, Harry." She said firmly. "Draco can't leave the house. Besides, Madame Giana said that it was an evil spirit trying to hurt me."

"Hermione," Draco began hesitantly. "If I'm being controlled, it could've been their energy she was feeling, not mine."

"He's right." Ron added. "Whoever's got his body could've allowed him to leave just to hurt you. Maybe it's best if you stay with me for a bit? Just until we're sure-?"

"No!" Hermione shouted. She had stomped her foot and angrily balled her fists as she stared at the three men proposing a ridiculous theory. She crossed her arms and huffed. "I'm not going _anywhere_." She turned to Draco and jabbed a finger in his direction. "You're stronger than some _arse_ playing necromancer."

"But, Hermione…" Draco insisted, but immediately stopped talking at the look in her eyes. He closed his mouth and nodded, peering over her shoulder at Harry and Ron who nodded as well.

"Good," Hermione sighed. "What we know right now is simple. Draco and Ian died the same way at a time interval much too close for comfort. An evil spirit is trying to kill me and Draco's body is missing. Tomorrow, I'll go see the funeral director and ask a few questions."

"You shouldn't go alone." Harry jumped in quickly, but Hermione shook her head.

"If he's involved in this and he sees me with an entourage, he'll grow suspicious. I'll ask noninvasive questions, I promise. Just enough to feel him out."

* * *

Hermione went to bed at near 5am. No sooner had she hit her pillow did she fall asleep, but she didn't stay asleep for too long. Sometimes during the night Draco would watch her sleep or lay beside her. She knew because a chill would overcome her and she'd have to pile on the blankets to keep warm. She never told him to go though. Hermione loved the idea that he was there beside her. She didn't mind a little frostbite.

And yet this time around no matter how many blankets she used, the cold was unbearable. "Draco," She called. "Do you mind?"

There was no answer. Instead Hermione felt even colder and she opened her eyes. She sat up in bed to find her skin looking dry and a faint blue. Her teeth were chattering and her fingers were numb. Hermione crawled out of bed and even her feet were lifeless.

"D-Draco!" Hermione shouted. She put her hands in front of her face and saw them shake. "D-D-Draco! P-Please! H-Help!"

The cold was beginning to sting. She felt like a hundred needles were stabbing her all over. Hermione collapsed to the floor with her trembling and then heard a consistent banging on her bedroom door.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted. Hermione could barely get out his name. He continued to shout her name and the banging grew louder. Hermione then spotted her wand on her dresser. With as much strength as she could muster, she rose to her hands and knees and crawled over to it. Each movement she took her body temperature went down a degree. She eventually made it to her wand and with a trembling hand grabbed it.

Pointing the wand at her left hand, she cried, "I-I-Incen-cen-…In-cendio!"

Fire erupted from her wand and enveloped her hand. She felt nothing at first, but soon her hand screamed with life. Her body temperature began to rise, and Hermione began to feel like she was in a furnace rather than a freezer. She shrieked in pain and extinguished the fire before it could move pass her wrist. She held her arm limply so as not to have the burnt flesh touch her body and a steady stream of tears flowed down her face. Draco passed through the door some seconds later and spotted her on the floor, his face in horror at the sight of her: pale, lifeless skin, and a hand that was burnt a dark red –brown and black on parts of it.

Draco's eyes welled up with water but he didn't let his ghost tears fall. He kneeled down to her, wanting to touch her but knowing that he couldn't. "You have to go to St. Mungo's."

"And t-tell them w-what?" Hermione asked as she sobbed. "That a g-ghost is trying t-to k-kill me?"

"You have to go somewhere." Draco reasoned. "Ian's still in the house."

* * *

There were limitations as a ghost for what Draco could do. Had he been able, he would've written one of her friends to come get her and to keep her safe. But he found that the things that he could manipulate were decreasing in number. Hermione supposed it was the doing of whoever had Draco's body. He or she knew that Ian wanted to get to Hermione that night and wanted to make sure that Draco couldn't alert anyone to her injuries.

Despite the pain, Hermione moved as quickly as she could to the fireplace. She forced the strength out of her to properly say her destination and happily let the Floo Powder drop. She stumbled out of Ron's fireplace and fell right onto the floor –left hand first.

Hermione cried aloud mercilessly and fresh tears came to her eyes. Moments later there were footsteps reaching the room and voices.

"Oh my…"

"What is it Isabel? Hermione!" Ron shouted. He ran over to her and took in how she looked. He turned back to Isabel who was horrified. "Get some blankets. She's freezing."

Isabel hurried out of the room and Ron pulled Hermione onto the sofa. He cradled her in his arms, careful not to touch her hand until his wife came back with the blankets. They covered her in them, adding a heating charm to speed up the process. Isabel went to make tea to help warm her up further while Ron tended to Hermione's hand.

"This looks awful, Hermione." Ron commented as he used his wand to calm the burns. She nodded and watched as he worked.

"It was either disfigure my hand or freeze to death." Hermione replied. "He was close to doing it too. I could barely move, barely talk… If I hadn't gotten to my wand-"

"Shh, I don't want to think about that. Let's just be glad that you did."

Hermione agreed and let Ron numb her hand. He didn't need her screeching out at the touch of his hands applying soothing ointment.

"I still don't understand how Draco couldn't see him." Ron said frustratingly. Hermione sighed.

"We think it's whoever's got his body." Hermione told him. "He's being controlled in ways so he can't help me. He can't leave the house, therefore can't protect me. He can't see other ghosts, and so can't see Ian to warn me. He can't even handle small objects like he used to."

"You really think it's the funeral director?"

"He's the only one who had direct access to Draco aside from me, and I was too distraught to go near him."

Ron sighed and magically wrapped bandages around her hand and wrist. Once it was finished, he took off the numbing spell. Hermione now realized how tight and painful her hand felt.

"I really wish you'd let someone go with you." Ron said with concern. Hermione took a deep breath and saw that the sun was now set firmly in the sky. She pushed the blankets from off her now that she was profusely sweating.

"He might run." Hermione replied. "And if he does, we're screwed. I'll get some sleep and head there about noon. If I'm not back here within two hours then feel free to send in the cavalry."

* * *

Hermione slept terribly. She kept having dreams that she was climbing an icy terrain –naked –and that no matter how many times she conjured clothing they kept disappearing. Eventually she gave up on sleep and took a shower. Isabel had graciously laid out some clothes for her; among them a satin glove that would flow pass her wrist and cover her darkened hand. The irony of it was how odd Hermione looked wearing only one glove.

"Ron told me to bring this to you."

Hermione turned to Isabel who was walking into the room with a wand in hand. Hermione smiled thankfully and took it. "Thanks. I had rushed over so quickly that I'd left my wand at home. Did…did Ron tell you what's going on?"

Isabel shook her head. "No. He would have, but I asked him not to. He's told me plenty of Hogwarts stories to last me a lifetime. More than half of them have given me nightmares. I'd rather stay in the dark about this one."

Hermione nodded. "Fair enough."

"The Floo's ready for you downstairs. Just please, if you could promise me one thing?" Isabel asked. She was nervously rubbing her hands together and she took a few deep breaths before speaking again. "Just promise me that Ron won't get hurt. If something happened to him I just…I don't know what I'd do."

The fright in Isabel's eyes was a knowing feeling for Hermione. Her whole Hogwarts career was about praying to Merlin that the people she loved didn't get hurt or died. The last thing Hermione wanted for Isabel was to put her in her shoes and allow her to experience the pain of losing a husband and for Micah to lose his father. Hermione stared at Isabel and nodded. She hoped desperately that she could keep her promise.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Sorry for the shortness! It's a bit of a filler as well, but the next one is longer, I promise. In the meantime, things just keep getting worse for Hermione, huh?

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	8. The Dead

Hermione found herself walking through the funeral home's doors at noon just as she said she would. The place was small, yet inviting. The walls were painted a bright orange and the room was complimented with black, brown, and white furniture. A receptionist's desk met her and Hermione walked up to it wearing a calm smile.

"Hello," Hermione greeted. "Is Mr. Wagner in?"

"He's meeting with someone at the moment, but should be finished shortly." The receptionist replied. "Do you mind waiting?"

"Not at all. I'll just take a seat."

Hermione sat down and cupped her hands on her lap. Her eyes peered at the door not too far from her. Behind it was Mr. Wagner's office. Beyond that was where he kept the coffins. Hermione began to wonder if Draco's body could be there. Was it in the basement? Was it somewhere else? Was it really Mr. Wagner or maybe one of his workers? And even then, to what end? Sighing, she didn't know what to think and chose to tap her foot repeatedly. She only stopped when the receptionist cocked a brow in the air at her. Some minutes later the door that Hermione had been staring at finally opened. Mr. Wagner allowed the grieving couple he had been talking to leave his office and then turned to Hermione with a smile.

"You may come in, Ms. Reid."

Hermione rose from her seat and followed him. After she closed the door behind her, she found that Mr. Wagner had sat down behind his desk. He had a pleasant persona about him, though he did look much more tired than last she had seen of him.

"If you don't mind me saying, Ms. Reid, but you don't look very well." Mr. Wagner commented. Hermione self-consciously thought of her hand and tried to hide it with the other.

"Death can do that to a person." Hermione shrugged.

Mr. Wagner silently agreed and nodded. "Death does have a set of odd effects. What is it that I can help you with?"

"Well," Hermione began hesitantly. She straightened herself in her chair to gain more self-confidence and boldly continued. "I have a bit of an unorthodox request to ask of you."

Mr. Wagner's brow raised at the potential oddity that lay before him and gave a subtle nod for her to continue.

"I want you dig up my husband."

"I beg your pardon?" Mr. Wagner gasped. He looked positively mortified.

"As I said, it's a bit unorthodox."

Mr. Wagner nodded. "I should say so! Why on earth would you want to do a thing like that?"

"His watch," Hermione lied. "There was one that he wore every day that meant the world to him. I guess in my fit of bereavement I completely forgot to bury him with it. I'd like to do it now."

"Ms. Reid, you certainly can't expect me to-"

"How difficult can it be?" Hermione urged. There was sweat coming off of Mr. Wagner's brow and he seemed nervous beyond normal capacity. Hermione kept her foot tapping to a minimum at the excitement of it. "It's not like this is some muggle funeral home and it would be cumbersome to do. A spell here or there and the dirt laying atop him can be moved." Hermione instantly thought of her, Harry's, and Ron's late night adventure. "You don't even have to bring him out of the ground. Another simple spell can put the watch right on him."

"Please, Ms. Reid." Mr. Wagner protested. "I truly _insist_ that you let the dead lie as they are."

"Why?" Hermione angrily stood from her seat. "It's _one_ request from an unfortunate widow who won't rest until her husband's watch is on his wrist." Here she took a deep breath. She would go for the big guns now and if this was a dead end, then so be it. "Is there something wrong with my husband's body that you don't want me to see?"

Mr. Wagner rose at her words. It was obvious now that the copious amount of sweat on his forehead wasn't from nervousness, but rather fear. "Ms. Reid, please." He said with a quivering tone. "You don't know what's going on here."

"Oh yes I do." Hermione said fiercely. "You took my husband's body. Did you kill him too?"

"I...I…" Mr. Wagner took a deep inhale. His whole body trembled. "I only did what I was asked to do. I couldn't turn him away. I did it once before, as you well remember. I couldn't do it again."

"As I remember? What on earth are you talking about?"

Hermione stared at Mr. Wagner in confusion. He was staring frightfully, but not at her. Rather he was staring pass her and she turned in the direction he was looking but could see nothing. The next thing she knew Mr. Wagner was gasping for air.

"Mr. Wagner!" She shouted. The man had a hand on his chest and had dropped to his knees. Hermione rushed over to him, making sure that when he fell forward he didn't hit his head on the tiled floor. "Mr. Wagner? You can't die! Mr. Wagner! Look at me!"

Mr. Wagner was in Hermione's arms now and staring off into the distance –the same spot that he had been staring at before.

"Mr. Wagner, damn it!"

He twitched at her words. Mr. Wagner turned his head to her as best as he could. His lips moved but it was barely above a whisper. "Re-re… Relin-quish,"

"Relinquish?" Hermione repeated in confusion, but before she could get any more out of the man he stopped speaking. In fact, he stopped moving altogether. He became limp in her arms and Hermione shivered violently. And though the man was dead Hermione couldn't will herself to move. She knew she should've gone to get help, but she was completely immobilized. Just as she found the will to get up something unbelievable began to occur.

Mr. Wagner's body began to morph. His eyes, which had stayed open, began to change color. His body size too. And before long Mr. Wagner wasn't the person that Hermione had in her arms.

" _Günter..?_

However careful Hermione was before, she wasn't now. She let the dead body fall to the floor as she scrambled to her feet. Hermione couldn't wrap her head around what she was seeing nor could she grasp the possibilities of what this could mean. The only thing going through her mind was that a man had died right in front of her, that that man wasn't who he looked like before, and the receptionist out front would have a hundred questions all directed at Hermione.

"What am I going to do?" Hermione asked herself desperately. She began to pace the floor before him and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a knock.

"Mr. Wagner? Your one-thirty appointment is here."

 _Damn it!_

Hermione ran both of her hands through her hair and held it by the roots – _hard_. The receptionist called for him again and attempted to come in. Hermione felt her heart stop at seeing the doorknob turn, but it was locked. Immediately Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at her own throat. Trying a spell like the one she was about to use with a wand different than your own was a little risky, but she didn't have a choice.

" _Transmuta Vox!_ " Hermione said at a whisper, tested it out beneath her breath, and stood by the door. "Sorry!" She said in a voice that no longer resembled her own. "My meeting with Ms. Reid will take a bit longer. You'll have to reschedule."

"Um, okay then, Mr. Wagner." The receptionist replied. "Are you alright? Your voice sounds a little-"

Hermione faked a cough. "Just a dry throat," she coughed again. "Nothing to worry about."

"If you say so, Mr. Wagner. I'll reschedule. Don't forget that your next appointment after this is at 2:30."

Hermione heard the receptionist walk away and she sighed a breath of relief –instantly retracting that breath when she realized that she still had a dead man at her feet.

With an extra hour to think Hermione returned her voice back to normal and then knelt down to Günter's face. It was him alright. So it seemed one of his many aliases had been a funeral director. Was it a coincidence? No. Working with the dead was a good way to fake new identities. And it certainly wasn't an accident that he'd be the one to take care of Draco after he died. Would he have been the one to look after Ian's body too? Would it be in the same place as Draco's? And if it did, the same question lingered over this whole mess: what was the point of it all?

As Hermione stared at Günter she cursed. The one to answer all of these important questions was in the great beyond by now. And now Hermione's heightened sense of panic came back. She was still stuck with a dead body. If she stayed any longer in this office she would look suspicious. Hermione then got an idea, albeit a terrible one that broke a rule or two.

Hermione tapped her wand on her head and felt like liquid was pouring on her head and the rest of it trickling down her body. Soon she was the same color as the wall and the tiled floor. As quietly as she possibly could, she opened Mr. Wagner's office door and slipped herself out. She closed it and walked as carefully as she could to the receptionist's desk. To her extreme happiness there was no one in the waiting area. Hermione pointed her wand at the receptionist, internally begged the woman to forgive her, and whispered, "Imperio!"

The receptionist took on a serene look on her face. Hermione took a deep breath and kept her wand on her. "Owl all of Mr. Wagner's clients with whom he had a meeting today. Tell them that he's sick and that he can't meet with them. When you're done, close up the office and go home. You will _not_ remember Hermione Reid coming into the office today. You _will_ remember Mr. Wagner telling you that he's not feeling well and to cancel his appointments for today."

Hermione ended the spell. When she did the receptionist stood and headed into a back room. Probably where all of the owls were kept. Hermione stayed camouflaged where she was until she saw the receptionist come back, take her stuff from her desk, leave the building and lock up after herself. Once she was gone Hermione lifted the spell on herself. She then immediately Owled Harry and Ron, telling them to come to Mr. Wagner's funeral home. She made sure to include the Floo address that she had found at the receptionist's desk.

Hermione had been pacing before Günter when Harry and Ron came into the office. They both stared between her and the body on the ground with the most confused, amazed, and worried looks of their lives.

" _Günter?!_ "

Hermione gazed at them and then to Günter. "What's more surprising? The fact that he's dead or the fact that Mr. Wagner _isn't_ Mr. Wagner?"

"How the hell is this even possible?" Ron asked as he knelt down to Günter. Hermione shrugged and resumed biting her nails as she had been before they got there.

"I don't know, and as much as I'd like to find out we can't do it _here_."

"What are we going to do with him?" Harry ran his hands through his hair and sighed in disbelief. "The logical idea is to prop him up in his chair like he died that way. But you can't exactly explain a con who's supposed to be either dead or in hiding, not a _funeral director_."

"Well, I have an absolutely ludicrous idea." Hermione bit her lip and stared at her friends. "Take his body and leave it home with me."

" _Are you out of your bloody mind?!_ " Ron shouted at her. Hermione knew what reactions she would face, but she quickly defended herself.

"Do you have any other idea?" She then turned to Harry and egged him on. "Do you? This whole thing is getting bigger by the day and giving Günter's body over will only make things harder. It seemed that he died of a heart attack –just like Draco and Ian. Draco can do an autopsy now."

Harry stared at Hermione, turned to Ron, and then stared at the body on the floor. He grinded his teeth and let out a breath of exasperation. "Hell, I hate it when you're right. Let's take him before I change my mind."

"Right," Ron breathed as he stared at Günter. "But we'll take him to my place." He turned to Hermione and gave a gentle nod. "You can't go home, remember? And the last thing we need is one of Harry's kids to see the body."

"Why can't you go home?" Harry asked, confusion marked all over his face. Hermione thought of her hand and shook her head.

"Not now,"

* * *

Ron was thanking Merlin that his wife wasn't home. Had she seen the sight that took place around three that afternoon she would've caught a fit. For some odd reason the Shrinking Spell wouldn't hold on Günter's body. It kept wearing off early and causing it to return to normal size. And so Ron went home first to make sure that the coast was clear. Once he was sure Isabel wouldn't return any time soon, Hermione and Harry Flooed in with Günter. With no other better place to stash him, Günter was placed in the basement.

No one had said a word while setting Günter aside though there were many questions to be answered. And yet no one knew where to begin. Frustrated and overwhelmed Hermione had excused herself and went to the guest bedroom. She hastily closed the door behind her and sat down at the bureau. Her hand was beginning to sting and throb viciously. Ron had left a soothing solution on top of the bureau and Hermione smiled at his foresight. Burns, particularly bad ones like hers, didn't just heal overnight. It would hurt, puff, swell, and turn all sorts of colors.

With a sigh Hermione poured some of the solution into a bowl and set her hand inside. Immediately she could feel it penetrating her dead skin. It wasn't before long that she rest her head on the bureau as she let her hand soak. And it wasn't long after that she had drifted off to sleep.

Her sleep was nothing peaceful, however. Instead of dreaming about snowcapped mountains as the night before, she was dreaming that she was swimming in a lake of fire. It was a true welcome when she felt someone shaking her awake. She snapped her eyes open to find Harry standing over her. He was frowning and Hermione soon found what he was staring at. She, too, produced a small frown. Her left hand was still soaking in the Soothing Solution and therefore its unfortunate beauty was free for all eyes to see. As she lifted it out of the bowl Hermione grimaced at how it looked. It was disgusting, but part of her nonetheless and damage that had been self-inflicted.

Wordlessly, Harry pulled fresh bandages from his pocket and began wrapping Hermione's hand. She looked up at his concentration-stricken face and then continued to watch him work.

"Ron told you what happened."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he did." He neatly secured the bandages onto her hand. Now only Hermione and the few who'd seen it would know of its horror. Harry was pulling something out of his other pocket now –a necklace with a red pendant hanging on it. He took a moment to unlatch it and put it around Hermione's neck. He finally managed to produce a smile once she had it on. "Wear this always. It'll keep spirits at a safe distance from you."

Hermione fingered the pendant. It was old. Outside of the red stone was gold trimming with delicate etchings engraved. It screamed of magic and a tireless sophistication. Because of this she knew that getting the pendant was no easy feat. "What did you get this?"

"It was in Ministry possession." Harry answered nonchalantly. Hermione immediately stared at him in a state of alarm but he waved her off. "No one will miss it. My duty is to protect you, not ancient artifacts."

Reluctantly she sighed and nodded. At least she could go home now. Draco would be happy to have her. At seeing Günter, however, he would be none too pleased.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, if you haven't come to the conclusion that I LOVE twists, well you should now :). Down, down the rabbit hole we go!

-WP


	9. Answers

Later that evening, Ron asked Isabel to stay upstairs for a little while. And since she didn't want to know what misdeeds were going on, she wished Hermione luck and happily complied with her husband's request.

Hermione didn't have a basement as Ron did, and so she decided to keep Günter's body in the upstairs study. It was a logical place. It held most of hers and Draco's books, and since they had a mystery on their hands it would be good to have the object of their inquiry in the same room.

It was by good fortune that Draco was nowhere near the lounge that they used for Flooing when Hermione and Harry came home with Günter. Hermione had wanted to mentally prepare Draco for what he would see, but of course he was linked to his dear wife and knew when she was near. Draco stood far off and stared wide-eyed at the body that Hermione and Harry were carrying. Once Günter was safely stowed, Harry told Hermione that he and the rest of the gang would be back the next afternoon. After he had excused himself Hermione went in search of Draco.

She found him standing at the end of the hall. Hermione cleared her throat to catch his attention. Draco turned, but didn't move, and frowned.

"It seems like I'm being tortured every way I turn." Draco said morbidly. "You were hurt last night, and I could do nothing to help you. The simple pleasure of being near you has been taken away too. Standing by these stairs is as close as I can get to you at this point. And apparently the man that I considered to be a father is dead."

Hermione frowned. She had never seen Draco so lost. If anyone was to lose their balance about something it'd be her. Draco was the rock –the one who kept his head on through any and all situations. To find the roles reversed put a tremendous pressure on Hermione. With a sigh she pulled out the pendant that Harry had given her so that Draco could see.

"It's to keep spirits at a distance from me." Hermione explained. "Harry gave it to me to protect me from Ian. Unfortunately it keeps you at bay too. I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Draco encouraged. "It's a good thing for you to have. At least it explains one thing." His eyes trailed to the door behind her and he took a deep breath. "Care to explain how and why Uncle Geoffrey is a corpse in our study?"

Hermione anxiously rubbed her arms. How _could_ she explain Günter? All attempts of giving a reasonable response only led to more questions. Sighing and tired of standing, Hermione leaned against the wall of the hallway and sunk down to the floor. With her knees pressed into her chest, she blurted it out.

"Günter took your body."

Draco cocked a brow in the air out of pure shock. " _What?_ "

Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around her knees. "He was using an alias as a funeral director. It was how he was able to get close to you. Though to what end I haven't the foggiest clue. All that we can guess for sure is that Günter and Ian planned this together. And they planned it _well_."

Draco huffed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and clenched his jaws tightly. Hermione could clearly see that he was upset. Some seconds later he let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Uncle Geoffrey loved us both. He couldn't deny either of us no matter what we asked. Did he say anything to you?"

"Nothing revealing, no." Hermione admitted. "Well, except for this one word: relinquish. It was the one thing he could get out before…you know. Before that he caught a fit at me poking around for information about you, and then…"

Draco stared at Hermione expectantly as her words trailed. She let her gaze linger for a moment on the door behind which Günter's body lay. Soon after that she had sprung to her feet. "He was staring behind me."

"Sorry?" Draco asked, full of confusion, but Hermione hardly noticed. She was full of excitement now.

"Behind me, Draco!" She said excitedly. "Before Günter collapsed he kept staring at something or _someone_ that I couldn't see. Then he had a heart attack and died. Come on. What are the odds that you, Ian, _and_ Günter all die of the same thing and so close together? And let's say for the hell of it that Ian did it. I mean, why wouldn't he? Günter was about to tell me everything! Why choose _that_ particular method to kill? Why not freeze him with subzero temperatures like he's been trying to do with me? This method of dying is serving a purpose somehow."

Hermione fished for the amulet that hung around her neck. She quickly fought with the clasp and nearly jumped out of her skin when Draco shouted at her.

"What are you doing?! Don't take it off!"

"It's necessary." She said as the amulet fell into her hands. "You have to do an autopsy on Günter _right now_. Can't very well do that while wearing it."

* * *

Possession was an interesting phenomenon. After Hermione's stroke of insight she headed into the room where Günter was with Draco right on her heels. Günter's body was on the floor. He looked even deader than he had hours ago –if that was a plausible thing to say. Hermione turned her eyes towards Draco who kept staring at the man who had been an inspiration to him.

"Can you do it?" Hermione asked. She suddenly realized the burden she had placed on her husband. She was asking him to cut open someone that he loved. Yet, however daunting, Draco nodded.

"You know where my surgical bag is, right?"

Hermione nodded. As a Healer, Draco had found it necessary to keep a few handy surgical items at home. With two growing children advancing their magic day by day a few accidents were bound to happen and Draco wanted to be prepared. The surgical bag, however professional it sounded, didn't have much within it. A Preservation Solution to keep wounds temporarily open, some pixie dust, which had some interesting effects in highlighting damaged organs in the body when sprinkled, Skelegrow, and a few inoculation potions. Anything else Draco needed his wand would suffice. How well any of this would work on a corpse, Hermione wasn't sure, but fought down all negative outcomes.

"So I was told once," Draco began. "You'll feel like you're in a dream."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Let's get this finished."

With her second breath Draco stepped inside her and Hermione's insides felt like they were being dipped into the Atlantic. It was a deep, icy feeling. It would've been painful had it lasted a little longer, but soon there was nothing but that dreamy feeling Draco had mentioned. Hermione could see, but it had a cloudy outlook. It was as though she was staring out of a window that hadn't been cleaned for many years.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked her. His voice resounded in her head. She replied that she was –not with her mouth, but with a thought that seemed shared with him. Soon after that she felt her body move of its own accord and found herself on her hands and knees. Her wand was in her hand and both of them were shaking.

"It's alright to be nervous." Hermione soothed. She felt her head nod in understanding, and soon Günter was being disrobed from the waist up.

Hermione didn't know if it was only Draco's anxiety that she was feeling or also her own. Regardless, she hazily watched as her mouth said words that she had only read about but had never uttered herself. It was amazing really, Hermione thought, as Draco made the first magical incision. She had seen him conduct a surgery once as a demonstration for St. Mungo Interns and, as his wife, had gained a first-row seat. But this was as Chris. Somehow knowing now for a fact that it was Draco who was who was delicately spreading open Günter's ribcage gave it a whole new light. This was the same man who under another alias had successfully defended her in court and continued on to be a very good lawyer. Hermione wondered what other capabilities lay dormant within him and were waiting for the opportune moment to be used.

"There's nothing here."

"What?" Hermione asked. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't even realized that Draco was finished. Her body was sitting back on its heels and her eyes were staring at the scene. "What do you mean nothing's there?"

"I mean that Uncle Geoffrey died of a heart attack. A _natural_ heart attack." Draco sighed and wiped his (her) brow. "If anything magical had caused it there would be magical bruising in his chest –particularly near the heart. Whatever scared him in his office probably induced it."

"I can't believe this." Hermione grumbled. "We're right back where we started _plus_ a dead body in our house."

"Well, I don't know if I'd say that. We have his body which means we know that no one can control him and hurt you. It also means that if he's here, we can talk to him without watching our backs."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Talk to him?"

She felt her head nod as Draco took back up the wand and began closing Günter up. "That's right. After I'm done here, we need the gang. We're going to do a séance."

* * *

Hermione was sure that with her book knowledge of séances she could probably lead one, but reading was the only experience that she had. She wanted to do this right and to do it all in one shot just in case Ian was lingering nearby and disrupted them. For that reason Hermione contacted Madame Giana. Draco had been opposed to the idea at first. He had wanted to keep what was going on to a limited amount of people, but Hermione contradicted him, saying that the Seer had been helping her all along.

"She'll be a great help." Hermione had told him. It was also what she had repeated when Draco, Harry, Ginny, and Ron had lain eyes on the old woman who had taken the time to meet them at eleven at night and was magically shifting around furniture in the living room.

"Let's all sit, shall we?" Madame Giana said. Everyone did as she asked and sat on the floor. –all except Draco, of course, who stood behind the group. "Everyone hold hands and close your eyes. Don't move and don't speak."

Hermione slipped her hands into Harry's and Ron's and closed her eyes. The room was silent with the exception of Madame Giana as she repeated Günter's name. It went on for a minute or so, but nothing was happening. Hermione cheated and opened one of her eyes to see if any signs that signaled the presence of a ghost was going on. No flickering lights. No cool breeze (or any breeze for that matter). No moving objects. She could see Draco in the background raising an eye at her and Hermione frowned. She suddenly sighed.

"Madame Giana, I don't-" Hermione stopped when the Seer slumped forward. Everyone's eyes were open then as they stared at the unmoving old woman. Hermione expected her to sit up and speak with Günter's voice emanating from her throat. Nothing of the sort happened, however, and Ginny moved from her spot to inspect her.

"She's not dead is she?" Ron asked. Ginny shook her head.

"No, no she's fine. Well, _not fine_ , obviously. I don't know what's wrong with her."

"It's my doing." Günter's voice came from behind them all. "I didn't want her to hear."

Everyone's eyes turned behind them and saw Günter. He stared at them all sheepishly except for Draco. He did his utmost best not to look at him at all.

"What did you do to her?" Hermione asked.

"A possession-less trance, if that's apt to say." He replied. "What we're about to talk about is…delicate information. It's best if outsiders not know."

"Not know what, exactly?" Draco questioned with an iciness in his voice. "That you helped Ian to murder me? That you betrayed me _again_? That you had a hand in turning my world upside down _again_? Do tell, Uncle Geoffrey."

"I don't expect you to forgive me, Draco. Or to appreciate what I've done for you. The _both_ of you." Günter said. "I'm just here to do all that I can to help remedy this mess."

"Then start helping." Hermione said sternly. "Answer the question that I was badgering you about in your office. Where's Draco's body?"

Günter sighed. He stared at everyone with a sorrowful expression and added in regret once he looked at Draco. "I have it. It's in the morgue beneath my funeral home. Along with Ian's."

"Ian's?" Harry voiced everyone's confusion. "Draco's I get. But why would you have Ian's body too?"

"It has to do with how and why they're both dead. Of course it all starts with Ian. He wasn't very pleased to be back in Azkaban while Draco was living a happily ever after."

Draco scoffed in the background. "How would he know? How would _you_? Neither of you knew whether I had another alias or not, nor what it would be."

"We didn't have to know." Günter shrugged. "Your weakness was, and always will be, Miss Granger. There was no way that you'd leave her, so when the wedding announcement came I knew that whom she married had to be you."

"And then you told Ian." Ron huffed. "It's not like Azkaban prisoners get the Daily Prophet."

Günter nodded. "Yes, I told him. I visited Ian as often as I could. I hoped to…ease his time there. I had no intention of helping him escape like I had done before at first. Don't look at me like that." He added to them with a roll of his eyes. "This chaos was well in motion before I came into the picture. Ian didn't just have me as company while he was in prison. And it was his companion, that Thorn fellow, that got everything rolling. That Thorn… He knows his dark magic."

"Tell me about it." Hermione and Draco said in unison.

"Ian and Thorn became really good friends over the years." Günter continued. "And of course neither of them are very fond of their elusive catches." He kicked in a chuckle as he looked at Hermione and Draco. "Thorn was sick, so I gathered. And Ian didn't want to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. They struck a deal that would benefit the both of them. For that deal to work, however, I had to kill Ian."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Sorry for the late post, but at least you're finally getting answers! Oh Günter…still causing mischief all because you can't say no. The rest of their conversation follows with the next chapter :D

-WP


	10. Bodies

" _You killed Ian?_ " Draco said in disbelief.

"Impossible." Harry shook his head. "Ian died of a heart attack."

"Yes, he did." Günter agreed. "But it's a heart attack that _I_ caused. It's how the Relinquishing Curse works."

Hermione's ears perked up. "Relinquishing Curse… That's what you were trying to tell me about just before you died."

Günter nodded. "It was Thorn who told Ian about it and Ian told me. When you use a Relinquishing Curse, the victim's death looks like a heart attack. There's no way to prove otherwise. It's a curse because the person's soul doesn't exactly move on. It stays right here so long as the person's body remains unharmed. And it can be controlled by the person who casted the curse."

"Then how has Ian been controlling me?" Draco asked. "I died after tending to Thorn at St. Mungo's."

"Yes, you did. But that doesn't mean that Ian wasn't there. And I swear to you, Draco that I didn't help him get there. We had a plan. As a funeral director, I could get Ian's body. I would instruct Ian out of Azkaban and back into his body. He was supposed to take over one of my aliases and then disappear for good. But I should've known better. I should've known that he wouldn't have left quietly."

"He hitched a ride, didn't he?" Ginny said. "The only way that Ian could've gotten out of Azkaban was if he jumped into Thorn before he was taken away to St. Mungo's."

"That's what I surmised." Günter sighed. "And while he was there, he killed Draco with the same curse –a wand somehow stolen and concealed until used at the proper moment."

"But to what end?" Hermione asked. "Ian could've killed Draco completely instead of using that Relinquishing Curse."

"Death is easy, Miss Granger. But Ian wanted to make Draco suffer."

"Well, he succeeded." Draco mused bitterly. He sighed then and slowly shook his head in disbelief at it all. "Alright fine. You killed Ian, Ian killed me. So what does he plan on doing? For someone who's had control of me this whole time, he hasn't done much. He hasn't even used me to try to kill Hermione. He's been doing it himself."

"Obviously he has another endgame, but I don't know what it is." Günter frowned.

"What about Thorn?" Ron probed. "You said this whole mess would benefit both Ian _and_ Thorn. What's he getting out of this?"

"…A body," Hermione said slowly. She looked up at everyone and repeated herself in earnest. "A body! Thorn's _dying_. And if he wants to live he's going to need a new body to do it in."

"He's got two to choose from at this point." Harry grumbled.

"Three, if you count mine." Günter added, and Draco snapped his eyes to his quickly.

"You died from the Relinquishing Curse?"

"No, no, I didn't. But Ian would've killed me if I hadn't died naturally."

"So that's what you were looking at when I was in your office." Hermione deduced. "It was Ian."

Günter nodded. "But I was so panicked I just… It doesn't matter. Regardless of whether the curse was used or not, a body is a body and any spirit can hop inside."

"And Draco?" Hermione said with hope. "If Draco just 'hopped inside' his own body, could Ian still control him?"

"No, he wouldn't be able to. He wouldn't be a spirit anymore."

"Then we have to go." Hermione immediately rose from her seat and began spewing orders. "Harry and Ginny, stay here with Draco. _Destroy_ Günter's body. We don't need Ian getting inside or Thorn for that matter if he suddenly dies tonight. Ron, come with me. You too, Günter." She added. "You're going to put Ian _back_ into his body while Ron and I get Draco's out of there."

* * *

Before they left Günter made sure to take Madame Giana out of her trance. She apologized deeply for what happened and proceeded to ask if they had made contact with the person they had wanted to talk to. Immediately lies rolled off of everyone's tongue before Hermione took the lead and politely told the Seer no, but thank you for her services. Once she had Flooed out, so did Hermione and Ron. Günter had disappeared and they found him in the middle of the funeral home's lobby just where he said he'd meet them.

Hermione had never been fond of funeral homes, and so being in one so close to midnight was rather unnerving. As she and Ron followed Günter down the short hall and past the man's office, Hermione began to wonder what tomorrow would hold for this place. The receptionist would come back. She'd come back to work, fully expecting her boss, Mr. Wagner, to be in and attending to clients. What would happen when she realized that he wasn't coming in? That he wasn't answering her letters? That he wasn't home at all, if she took the initiative to try to find him? There'd be no body to find, and thus some sort of investigation would ensue. Luckily there was the redhead by her side and Harry. They were active Aurors and would most likely take the brunt of the chaos that would come of it.

The door at the end of the hall led to a room that Hermione was familiar with. It was the showroom of all the coffins. Her body felt tight as she and Ron continued to follow Günter through the funeral home. Several months had passed since having to roam around this room, blindly picking out a random coffin just to get it over with. Now that she was walking through it again, she felt like it was just yesterday when she had said, "The dark blue one. The cost doesn't matter."

A hand clasped hers just as her words reverberated in her mind. Hermione looked up at Ron and smiled. He had been with her the last time she was in this room, so he knew the thoughts that had to have been taking shape behind her eyes.

Günter took them through a corner door that took them down a short set of stairs. Cool air flew up from where it led, and it was bound to feel even colder when they descended the stairs. Once their feet touched the last step, aside from the chill, both Hermione and Ron were immediately hit with an array of smells that made them furrow their brows and crinkle their noses in disgust.

"That's the one good thing about being dead." Günter said as he regarded their expressions. "No more rotten smells."

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed as they continued to follow past various rooms set aside for preparing the bodies. "How did you survive down here?"

"Years of practice," He replied as he continued leading the group down the hall. He stopped in front of a door and took a long, deep breath. "Draco's and Ian's bodies are through there."

Hermione's heart raced. She braced herself for the slow, careful walk she was taking with Ron at her heels. Günter had already walked through the door, and now the living pair were on the other side, viewing the sole two bodies in the room. In that moment Hermione didn't know what to think, do, or say. Although she had been seeing Draco's ghost for some time now, it was quite different to see a solid form –a form that she hadn't seen in sixteen years. He looked peaceful. She was sure that if she walked over and prodded him that he would wake from his slumber, a half-snarl, half-smile on his lips and asking why she woke him.

Draco's body was the first one she'd seen. On the left side of the room was Ian's looking just as preserved as her husband's. Unlike with Draco, Hermione had several thoughts running through her mind –none of them good. By nature she wasn't a murderous person. The deaths forged by her hand during that _dreadful_ gameshow, although justified, still haunted her from time to time. Back at the house she had told Günter that he would be putting Ian back into his body. Hermione's intention had been to first bound Ian's soulless body, put him back into it, and then set off the funeral home's alarm system. Aurors would come, find Ian, and off to Azkaban he would go. But the more Hermione thought about it, the more she realized that that _wasn't_ what she wanted to do.

Ian was relentless. Instead of falling prey to defeat, the man only sought more ways to achieve his goals. It was a trait that Draco possessed and one that Hermione admired dearly. In Ian, though, it made her body run cold and think of the future. What would happen five years from now? Ten? Hell, twenty? Would she be going through another life-altering moment that shattered her serenity?

"Let me know when you're ready." Günter said. Hermione turned her eyes to him. Her chest felt heavy as she stared through him and at Ian's body one more time. She swallowed and took out her wand, raising it towards her enemy's form.

"You won't be needed." She told him. "I'm destroying Ian's body."

Ron stared at her in surprise as Günter's eyes widened.

" _You're what?_ "

"You heard me."

Günter sputtered. "B-but you _can't_! Ian won't be tethered to the world anymore with it gone! He'll disappear!"

"And that's a bad thing?" Hermione snapped at him. "He's done nothing but caused pure hell in my life. He doesn't deserve to continue his."

"Hermione," Ron said tentatively. She shot cruel eyes at him, but he pressed on. "I know you hate Ian, so do I. So does everyone. But…this isn't you. You don't kill people. Not when you have the choice not to."

Hermione tore her eyes away from him and settled them back on Ian's body. Her wand was still raised, her lips ready to say the spell to set it alight in bright flames. But the longer she stared, the longer Ron's pleading face stayed in her periphery, and the longer Günter looked like he was ready to die all over again, Hermione sighed and said another spell to bound Ian's body in tight rope.

"Order him back into his body."

"He can't." A familiar voice filled the room. Hermione turned in a panic, joining Ron's and Günter's curious stares as Draco's previously still form was sitting upright. He turned, swinging his feet off of the metal table and standing as a smile adorned his face. "I'm not a spirit anymore."

It was the air. Down below where the bodies were worked on was too cold for either Hermione or Ron to feel that Ian was near. Had she known, Hermione wouldn't have hesitated and would've blown Ian's body to smithereens. She still could. She could very blow his body to bits right then and there, but what good would that do? Ian would still be in her husband's body.

"Get out of him." Hermione snarled. Ian continued to smile with Draco's lips and it made her skin crawl.

"Sorry, love, but it doesn't work like that." Ian said smugly. "This isn't my body, no, but I'm the only soul in here, thus I'm not possessing anyone. The only way for me to go is for you to kill me."

Hermione huffed and raised her wand. "That's not a problem."

Ian laughed. "Willing to taint your halo further, are we? How about I spare you the trouble and give you a hand?"

Ian quickly stretched over to his right to a small table with surgical tools. He picked up a small knife and raised it to his (Draco's) throat. Hermione's wand arm slacked as she watched in horror. The grin on her husband's face controlled by that maniacal monster wasn't what made her terrified. It was the fact that if Ian killed himself in such a way, Draco's body would be beyond repair. There'd be no body for Draco to go back to.

Ian's smile was slowly turning into a sneer. He tilted his head slightly, the knife pressed tightly against his skin –so much so that the tip of the blade pierced him so that a small bubble of blood appeared. "I take it that the wheels inside that beautiful brain of yours are turning?"

Hermione swallowed. She caught Ron looking at her and saw Günter frown. She could do it. She could push down the guilt and kill Ian now, but she wouldn't be fast enough. Ian would slide that knife across Draco's throat in one clean swipe before she could utter the famed deadly words. Yes, the wheels were definitely turning inside her head, and Ian began to bask in his triumph.

"I'd wipe that look off of your face if I was you." Hermione warned. "You're getting out of Draco's body _intact_ sooner or later."

Ian smirked. "With you nipping at my heels, perhaps… But not without doing a bit of damage first."

With that Ian disapparated, the knife he held dropping to the floor where he'd previously stood.

* * *

Hermione, Ron, and Günter hauled themselves back to the house quicker than anyone could blink. Hermione immediately began calling for Harry and Ginny, but then stopped when Ron placed a hand on her upper arm. He made her halt her steps and _really_ take a look around. That's when she realized it.

Tossed chairs.

Broken picture frames and vases.

Splintered wood and chunks of wall.

Hermione shouted for Harry, Ron called for Ginny, and Günter walked around as he yelled for Draco. The blonde appeared at the foot of the stairs, a startled look spread over his face.

"They're both okay." Draco said, running his hands through his hair. "As okay as they can be anyway. Ginny took Harry to St. Mungo's."

"What happened?" Ron questioned. "What did that bastard Ian do?"

Draco shook his head. "It wasn't Ian. It was Thorn."

" _Thorn?!_ "

Draco nodded and glanced back upstairs where he'd come. "They were about to do it. Harry and Ginny were about to destroy Uncle Geoffrey's body when his eyes just…opened. After that the fight of a lifetime went down in here."

"There's no way that's a coincidence." Hermione said with determination as she turned to Ron. "Ian shows up, Thorn's suddenly dead and in Günter's body? How would he even know that Günter was dead in the first place?"

"Ian had to have told him." Ron surmised with a scowl. "How he managed to make it from Azkaban to here is a different story, but regardless Thorn's in his new home."

"While Ian takes over Draco's body _to do a bit of damage_ … Whatever that means."

"Wait, wait, time out." Draco jumped into the conversation with wide eyes. "Ian's _inside_ my body?"

Hermione turned to Draco and frowned. "I'm sorry, but yes. I promise to fill you in, but right now we need to get to St. Mungo's."

It was obvious Draco was about to fight for answers, but he bit back his tongue, nodded and sucked his teeth grudgingly. "Fine. I'll wait here for when you get back."

Despite the situation, Hermione began to smile. "Weren't you listening? I said _we_. Right after you hop in."

Draco quirked a brow at his wife. He presented the same facial expression to the smirking redhead next to her and then to Günter who gestured to the ground. It was then that Draco finally noticed Ian's perfectly preserved body in the room.

Draco had never been so glad to see him.

* * *

 **Author's note:** The plot thickens! And now there's some trouble *evil grin*

-WP


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